Warlock of Omaha Squared
by Hemaccabe
Summary: The Warlock of Omaha must face new deadly challenges with new friends and new enemies! From the streets of Chicago, to the palaces of Peking, to his own backyard, he will have to face new deadly threats. Will have some brief visits by characters from the novels.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Mr. Butcher likes to work some of his religious beliefs into his work. Even as someone who does not have the same religious beliefs, the skill and underlying honesty of how he writes about them make sense to me and I find it entertaining.

I've tried not to shove my religious beliefs down anyone's throat in this story, but I think you'll see them if you look hard. Enjoy.

Warlock of Omaha Squared

Chapter 1: Wayward Son

I was floating in my river. I was so safe and secure. Nothing could harm me here. I had been in this river so long I had forgotten my own name, an artifact of having what I wanted most, beautiful solitude. The water lilies and vines caressed my body as I relaxed in a deep eddy. I was just starting to feel a bit of hunger. What should I eat? The river was full of tasty fish and succulent eel. A swift movement in the dark could give me a variety of tasty land dwelling animals, a savory bird, a fat rabbit. But I already knew what I would eat, my favorite meal, the nearly hairless monkey, particularly a young female, always the most tender and flavorful.

I snapped awake. The dream again. I had been having that dream every so often ever since the fight. I knew from my moment with Ha that I was dreaming bits of his life. The dreams were disturbing on many levels. Not least because the feeling of perfect safety and security felt so good. It played right into my own dreams and the feelings of constant stress and insecurity. Feeling the desire to eat human flesh was disturbing for all the reasons a sane person would imagine and worse for being so seductive.

I looked across my bed and saw Brenda sleeping peacefully and the clock slipping from 4:59 to 5 and knowing I wouldn't get any more sleep so I went for some gear head therapy.

In took myself down to my garage and clicked on the remote start and heard the low rumbling thrum of hemi goodness. I really loved my new pickup. In comparison, those Fords were kind of squeaky and the GM products sounded and pulled like an old sheep with a three pack-a-day habit.

Most pickups are supposed to be a workman's friend, simple, cheap to own and operate, durable and reliable. Frankly though, far more pickups are purchased by residents of the suburbs as family sedans on tall wheels with a bed. The natural high performance truck would be some sort of off road monster. Then there are those that modify trucks for drag racing and other silly pursuits. Mine was one of the silly ones.

I had considered, as we looked at the unfinished body panels that Dodge had supplied, chroming everything. It would have cost crazy money and slowed down the build, but the idea of driving around in such a shiny, distinctive vehicle was intoxicating. Then good sense kicked in and I realized I had driven away from a number of serious crime scenes in the last year. The last thing I needed was to have the most distinctive vehicle in the Midwest. Like the Three Gun match, winning and the attention it drew was not useful, but I still wanted the trophy. So the new truck got the same paint in most areas I had used for the old truck, Dark Green Metallic. Essentially black paint with a heavy layer of varnish. Imbedded in the varnish were bits of forest green metallic flake. Was my truck black, green or something else? Confused witnesses would likely be my allies.

I had considered putting a Ford bed on the truck. Ford's use of aluminum body panels would save weight and be even more confusing, but I loved my Ramboxes so I stuck with Dodge. It would have been easy to go down the rabbit hole for performance, custom made body panels, home made frame, electric motors up front, but that's what the Juke is all about so I held back.

I do have carbon fiber ceramic six pot breaks all around. Really big carbon fiber ceramic six pot breaks. There were also air suspension components more normally associated with race vehicles, which I normally left low, but which could be raised for off-roading. The most fuel tank Dodge will sell you is thirty-two gallons all on one side, I had two mil-spec high-performance forty gallon tanks, one for each side, self-healing for a much lower chance of going pop. Also the balanced weight and baffles helped handling and fast acceleration. There had been several times in the last year I hadn't wanted to stop for gas, having eighty gallons on board seemed like a good idea.

My truck has all the safety precautions I had described earlier, chro-molly frame and roll cage, reinforced glass, armored panels, safety seats, etc. She did have some features appropriate for off-road that had been sacrificed on the previous truck in the quest for a sleeker look but which I now wanted, like bull bars front and rear, custom made stainless steel bumpers, frame mounted step rails, light package, among others. Those hard outside bits had been treated with black bed-liner material to make them extra durable.

Mostly though, my truck was meant for the streets. It had a set of 26 inch, low profile rims and performance tires. The rear wheels were dualies. Dualies are not unusual on trucks. A dualie is simply a truck with double rear wheels. Dualies are common on larger, "One-Ton" trucks, all but unheard of on a smaller trucks like my half-ton. Normally, the extra pair of wheels helps the truck carry more weight on the bed and tow more. However, the typical dualie arrangement was to have the extra pair of wheels outboard, or outside, the normal pair of wheels. This made the truck even wider. A truck is already one of the largest vehicles still commonly sold to private consumers. The large size is part of the appeal and is certainly appealing to me. A big vehicle worked well in Omaha with her wide streets, large parking lots and big parking spaces. I had traveled to the coasts where everything is older and narrower, where land, at a high premium, encourages, narrow lanes, small parking lots and tiny spots. A pickup wouldn't work as well in such places. Even in Omaha, a conventional dualie is a handful.

My dualie wheels were like Batman's Scrambler, inboard. That keeps my truck relatively narrow, but compromises the bed. Since I rarely used the bed, I didn't care. Mostly, the extra wheels meant that since I had more tire on the road when I put down the gas pedal, she would accelerate that much faster away. My truck wasn't built for drag racing, but it's nice to be respectable, not to mention tactically sound.

Of course, all that goes out the window when I find myself here in Chicago! I had Travis and Jake with me in the truck. We were trying to go to McAnally's Pub. Mac's place has no parking except street parking and is not located in a place with a lot of that, making finding a parking spot an exercise in superhuman patience. Perhaps some sort of test? All the streets are one way, narrow, at odd angles and cross major, busy roads, frequently, with no help from a streetlight. Further, my truck can't slip into some Fiat space, I need a good sized space to drop this huge honk of machine into.

In an effort to control my hunger driven grumpiness, we were to eat at Mac's but it was late and I don't do my best when hungry and frustrated, I thought about what brought us here.

Travis, Jake and I had been running drills. One of the basic lessons we had learned in the final fight against Ha was that we would be better off working together. Yes we had won, and more importantly survived, but running like a group of lemmings to make sure our efforts were as weak as possible was clearly not good.

White Man was still out there. He knew where we were and probably had a good sense of what we were. He wanted to put us all in mud or worse. We knew nothing about him. Our safety would come from White Man, or anyone else who might decide to cross us, realizing we were now a team and exponentially stronger as a group than as individuals. It would therefore behoove us to actually BE a team. Hence drills where we figured out ways to improve our performance by working together.

After one such drill, Jake came over and said, "I feel like I'm letting the team down."

I replied, feeling very honest, "That's not the case. No, you don't shoot, but for Travis and I to shoot effectively, we need to know our backs and flanks are safe. You're extra eyes and bat are huge. We need that."

Of course, I also felt like it would be great if he could learn to shoot or something more than keep his eyes open and hit things real hard with a bat, but I was too diplomatic to say so.

"I appreciate you saying that, but I've been doing some research on the net." Jake continued, "There're some werewolves in Chicago. They seem to be pretty badass. I've never had someone who already was a wolf show me the ropes. Maybe I could learn something from them?"

"You know, I went to Chicago a few years ago and wanted to talk to them. I could never set up a meeting. It might be hard to contact them, and having contacted them, gain their trust to get help and training from them." I said, thinking I was the wise old man.

"Actually, I've contacted a werewolf named Georgia. She's invited me to come for a visit." He answered sheepishly.

"Well," I said, feeling silly, "I guess we should go."

When I told Tamar about it she said, "He's a werewolf? I always suspected as much. Werewolves are the natural enemies of our people."

"Our people?" I responded, sensing there was a very important world of information I had managed to overlook up to that moment.

"Yes. Didn't you know that Werewolves have always been the enemies of the Fox People." She answered, opening a world of questions just as she headed off to an appointment so I couldn't follow up. So typically Tamar.

Then I got another surprise when I talked to Travis.

I had explained the basic idea of the trip, to which I had added the idea of a bachelor weekend out to Travis wanting him to come because it made good tactical sense for us to stay together as a group and, also, because Travis is cool. I got to the end of my pitch and asked, "So are you coming?"

"So Jake's a werewolf?" He said in the form of a question but more as a statement. Then he continued, "Werewolves are the natural enemies of my kind."

"Natural enemy?" I asked.

"How many fairy tales end with a showdown between the hunter and the wolf? Hunters were humanity's natural defense against the depredations of the wolves." He answered.

That kind of worried me.

"You're still cool with Jake though, right?" I asked a little nervously.

Travis laughed, "Don't worry, every Hunter," and you could hear the capital "H" when he said it, "needs a good hound."

That sounded positive.

"So are we good for Chicago?" I asked.

"Yeah, but I have to check with Miranda." He answered.

"Whutpish." I made the whip sound while he smiled and shook his head ruefully.

That found us in Chicago, getting ready for a meet and greet with the local werewolves, the Alphas. I'd heard good things and bad about them. I heard they hunted down supernatural threats and protected people. I also heard they were tight with DiAngelo's boss. In turn, they didn't know us from Adam. So it made sense for us to meet on Accorded Neutral Ground. We would meet, break bread, drink drinks and feel each other out and decide where to go from there. Of course, that assumed I ever found a parking place.

Travis, who was riding shotgun, after making a variety of snarky cowboy remarks like, "Why don't you conjure a spot oh mighty wizard," and "Perhaps you can use your great skills to beat a spot from steel in the forge," finally rolled down his window, put two fingers outside, brought them back to his nose, licked them, them put them back outside.

Then after a bit of consideration he said, "Turn left at the next intersection."

I followed his directions and in less than five minutes we had a great spot next to a big residential driveway under a tree. We got out and headed back to the bar. I checked my boots, they were a new pair. I was experimenting with a strip of Type 1 over the instep. I had also made these out of blue suede. I needed to see how they worked not only for weight and maneuverability, but simple fit and finish as well.

We were on the sidewalk on the east side of the street, the same side as the entrance to Mac's, walking south about half a block from the entrance. Coming from the south on the same side of the street were a loosely clothed group of young people. They had almost reached the bar. Then all hell broke loose.

Jumping down and across the road from a three story building on the west side of the street was a group of textbook Fomor. They were wearing the whole Steve Jobs look and were mostly the size of NFL players.

The five young people, badly outnumbered, immediately shifted into wolf forms and began to fight.

Travis asked, "What's our play?"

"Kill every mother's son of the bastards." I replied.

Our normal move was for Travis and I to draw. I would stand in front with my better armor and meager shielding ability, Travis would stand behind me to the right and we would select targets based on apparent size and armor. With my harder punching 10mm, I got the easy targets and Travis with his more voluminous fire and accuracy got the small. Jake would watch our backs and flanks and give us extra ears and eyes.

For about five seconds, it was a nasty situation. I shot one Fomor and Travis got two. Some of the Fomor were armed but had not yet managed to hit anything. With our support, the werewolves were holding their own.

Then Todd and Betty wandered up a side street right into the middle of the situation and I knew whoever had set this up had just overplayed their hand.

Todd and Betty had been in the RV with Ha. They were the two with talent. In the hospital, as they rehabbed, they had met, courted and when they came out, got married. I watched from a great distance.

They had a very nice ceremony with many of their friends and family, and because I could follow their accounts, I knew it was about all they could afford plus some. So I paid the bill and I also bought them a nice trip to the Caribbean for a honeymoon.

Betty came home from the honeymoon pregnant. Hey neither of them was a spring chicken anymore and if they were to have a family, they'd have to get moving. They shopped for a house since they now had some money after the wedding. They picked out a nice four bedroom/three bath place in a nice quiet suburb with good schools. After they finished picking it out, purchasing it, using their savings as a down payment and got a mortgage, they moved in. A week later, I paid off the mortgage.

I sent them a card which said, "I know some bad things happened to you recently. I know they were not your fault. I was not the one who did them to you. I do want to balance the scales a bit so that something good happens too."

I don't know why I did those things for them. I had no obligation. Admittedly, it wasn't a big deal for me. Maybe I still felt guilty for the two I had killed. I had to kill them, but their families would never have closure. I knew that must be terrible for them and I thought about it every day. Also, Todd and Betty would give birth to the next generation of humans with magical talents, a group that has been getting pressured from a lot of angles lately. By encouraging their family I was fighting the same fight I had in Omaha, just on a different battlefield. Beyond that, it just seemed like a chance to help some decent and deserving people. It's very satisfying to help people, I suggest it to everyone. It need not be big chunks of money. Volunteering at a local school or homeless shelter can be done by anyone.

That said, the situation on the street could have gone down in all sorts of ways. We hadn't coordinated our meeting with the werewolves in a specific way, we might have taken five minutes less or ten minutes more to find a spot and walk up. Presumably, the Fomor had sprung their trap upon seeing our arrival. They clearly wanted a response from us. We might have responded in all sorts of ways, but clearly, they wanted us to stay and fight. The Fomor must have engineered it so that Todd and Betty showed up right now knowing it would piss me off, to try and force my hand. Unfortunately for the Fomor, I had played chess once upon a time. Todd and Betty were a coincidence too far.

The standard play for us would be to execute a fighting retreat to the truck where we would have more weapons and a greater chance to flee if necessary.

I scanned the buildings and yelled, "Travis take cover. Jake stay with him."

Then I made my own move. I jumped across the street and landed on a ledge half-way up the second story of the three story building. Another pump and I was on the roof. There was a really big Fomor there lying face down on the roof just to my left. He was pointing a big sniper rifle and operating video gear. I think I caught him by surprise. He started whipping around the rifle toward me, but it was a sniper rifle, long, heavy and awkward. I just had to aim my pistol. I won the quick draw and the fight by, maybe, a tenth of a second. My shot caught him in the side of the neck just below where it met the side of the face and traveled diagonally through his head blowing his jaw through his skull and into the roof. He dropped like a pole-axed steer. I went to the video gear, picked up the mic and said into it, "I'm coming for you."

Then I threw down the mic, took a step back and let my magic pulse through the gear. There were many pops, cracks and some smoke. Using a bit of magic to burn out electronics is something even my meager skills can manage. I'd done it many times, more by accident than on purpose, but it was now pretty basic, second nature. Which was why I was surprised to see the power in the building across the street go out with the electronics.

I had a good view of the street and the remaining Fomor were breaking and running. I took a last shot at one as he ran down an alley, missing. I then jumped back down to the street.

I jogged across the street back to Travis and Jake. Travis was semi-kneeling behind a fold in the wall and Jake was hunkered near him with his bat.

"Let's get back to the truck." I said and began to ever so bravely lead the scampering away with the tails between the legs.

We got back to the truck, one could already hear sirens in the distance as city services responded swiftly to a major gunfight in the middle of the city. We gave the truck a once over, got in and ran. We had just parked, it would be quite a feat for someone to have messed with our truck in that time, but not impossible. We found a quiet spot a few miles away. Checked the truck again and grabbed more ammo and reloaded. I'd gone through a mag and half. Travis had nearly emptied all three of his.

I was still hungry.

I pulled out my smart phone and went to work finding someplace else for us to meet. Jake started texting to see if we could salvage the meeting. We ended up at a place called Prime America, apparently a well regarded steak place in a town of well regarded steak places. The werewolves agreed to join us as my guests. It was a bit of an effort and a c note to the Maitre D' but we were seated at a nice booth. We exchanged greetings and introductions, apparently Will, a short, solid fireplug of a guy and his tall wife Georgia were the leaders of the Chicago werewolves. They ate well, but not as heavily as Jake or I. There were five of them. Will and Georgia, a top heavy red head, a smaller mousey brown haired one and a taller, rangy guy. They all seemed very fit and solid, but none of them had Jake's mass.

Travis had his usual T-Bone, I had a huge piece of prime rib, Jake had several selections from the menu. I ended up getting another and Jake did a second round too.

The werewolves turned out to be cool young people. They were a bit guarded, but you'd have to expect that. Some beer, good meat and the cool down of adrenalin from a successful fight where we were both clearly on the same side helped.

"I know about several ways for lycanthropy to work, what you describe isn't any of them." Said Will, the apparent leader for the group after Jake had explained his version of the syndrome.

"Do you still think that what you know will help me then?" Jake asked, kind of nervous, like he had high hopes that might be getting dashed.

"You could stick around for a bit and we could show you some basics?" Will offered.

Jake turned to me and asked, "What do you think?"

I had been letting Jake take the lead in the conversation. This was his deal and his life. However, he asked so I said, "Sounds good to me. Busses, trains and airplanes go back and forth from Chicago to Omaha all the time. You could come home with us and ride your bike back to Chicago so you have your own wheels? Up to you."

I saw this situation as a kind of diplomacy. There were obvious goals on the table. If Jake could learn how to control his gift better, it would be good for him and good for us. These five Chicago werewolves had held their own and then some. It would be great if Jake could do that in a fight. At the same time, while there was some question as to the Chicago werewolves' bonafides, they clearly had a rep as some serious players. Never know when you might need help. Having a good relationship could be very useful.

"I like the idea of going home for my bike. That would give me some time to explain it to Kelly and Mike." Jake said and then turning back to Will and Georgia he asked, "Is there a place here for me to stay or do I need to find my own thing?"

Will looked at Georgia who nodded subtly, then turned to Jake and said, "Our place isn't huge, but you could use our sofa. We know some others you could use too depending on how long you stay? Of course, some babysitting would be expected."

"Babysitting!?" Jake said incredulously, then added with a tone of mock long suffering. "That must be my fate."

I knew Jake liked being Mike's big brother/dad, but he liked complaining about it too.

After that we got some basic logistics worked out. Jake would leave his travel bag here with Will and Georgia, come home on the truck and then ride back on his bike.

We broke up late and went back to the Palmer House. The guys went back to their rooms. I picked up my corporate attorney who was just finishing work in the bar.

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	2. Chapter 2

Warlock of Omaha Squared

Chapter 2: Our House

The next morning we had a nice breakfast at the Palmer House. I had been pleased that my new shoes still seemed comfortable and my feet weren't sore. Then we mounted up on the truck after giving it another once over. We dropped off Jake's bag. We picked up some deli at Hungarian and headed back to Omaha. We stopped at the quad cities for some gas. Then we stopped in Des Moines for some more good deli at Maccabee and more fuel at the Costco. Then we ran the last two hours home.

Somewhere west of Quad Cities Travis asked, "What happened in the middle of that gunfight?"

It was a polite question considering that I had broken all the rules we had established in long drills that I had insisted upon.

"I'm sorry, I know I let the two of you down, but I saw a sniper up on that roof and knew that he would begin punching our tickets any second. The time it would have taken me to explain would have been enough for him to kill us." I answered.

Somewhat mollified Travis responded, "Well that makes sense."

Then I admitted what I had done and said on the roof.

"You said what?" Travis said in the most angry tone I had ever heard from someone who clearly thought of being laconic as a religious principal.

"I know. It was kind of crazy." I answered sheepishly.

"You know, those Alphas were closer to the doors than we were and that's where they landed. It could well be that these Fomos," Travis still never pronounced Fomor correctly, "were at war with them, not us. In fact, that's what I remember us discussing about the lay of the land before we got to Chicago. The Alphas seem like nice folks and I'm grateful to them for helping Jake out, but I don't remember where in the conversation we agreed to go to war or die for them."

Everything Travis was saying could be true. I could have just done something really stupid. I could very well have just picked a fight with a MUCH bigger fish for no good reason. If one didn't know about Todd and Betty, it could have seemed like that ambush was mostly about the werewolves, not us.

"Everything you said is true. You could be right, except for one thing. Todd and Betty were there." I said.

"Todd and Betty were there?" Travis said.

Travis and Jake knew who Todd and Betty were, but they didn't know what I had done for them. Telling someone that you gave somebody else nice presents sounds boastful and prideful and I didn't want to be. Much less sound like I was either. However, now it was germane to the conversation so I explained.

"That was nice, but that gave the bad guys a handle." Travis said a bit uncharitably.

That's when Jake decided to chime in, "If the bad guys needed a handle and they didn't have Todd and Betty, they might have used Kelly and Miranda."

That took the wind out of Travis' sails.

"So what now?" Travis said.

I had been stewing since the moment I had popped the electronics, "We know White Man was connected to Ha. There's a strong likelihood that White Man is connected to the Fomor. Nothing I saw confirms anything with certainty, but it all tends to support. That said, we're already at war with White Man and enjoying an apparent armistice. We had hoped he would never come back and decide that as a group we were too big a fish to fry. The move in Chicago could have been an effort to gauge just how far we've come, just how big a fish we are. They had a lot of recording gear on that roof and had already refrained from shooting for some time. The most likely reason to have Todd and Betty there would be to make sure we decided to engage rather then withdraw from a fight we felt wasn't ours. I could make something up that sounds good as an excuse, but I said what I said on that roof because I was pissed. That said, it may have been the best thing. Trying to sound mealy mouthed could have sounded weak. Weakness invites attack. I doubt it will make much difference either way, but sounding strong may make them think twice and whatever happens I'd rather go out with my boots on then on my knees begging."

Travis nodded agreement to that.

All that I said was true, but I was also still thinking and had a long drive to do little else. The primary goal of the attack had seemed to be recon. If so, the Fomor had paid a heavy price. Including the one I put paid to on the roof my estimate was at least six dead, several others seriously wounded. My number wasn't perfect. Some of their dead and wounded they carried away, some they left. I had my helmet footage which was reviewed several times. That said, I didn't see the whole fight. I don't know how cheap their grunts are, but that had to sting. Further, my move on the roof would have denied them most of what they were looking for. Would that provoke another attack? Would it warn them off?

Jake then said, "What do we tell the girls?"

What indeed.

Since we had said good-bye to Ha, I had replenished the larder, so to speak. I recruited Kaylee who was entering the hospitality management MBA program. Kaylee was a former volleyball star standout in the university's nationally well recognized program. She stood seven two, most of that in long, toned, leg. She had long blond hair that went down to her rear and endowments which looked nice but when one realized how tall she was, one realized how remarkable they were. Kaylee came from small town Nebraska and was also a really nice girl. Holly came back from Guam for a couple weeks to show Kaylee the ropes and yes, I had compared their endowments and Kaylee had more to be grateful for. Mostly it was so nice not to have to waste another day cleaning toilets and vacuuming endless floors.

Miranda and Kelly helped me pick out Yumi from the Chef program. Yumi was second generation Nisei. At the risk of sounding racially insensitive, it seems to me that Japanese women, very attractive as they might be, have an advantage over their Caucasian counterparts in hips, thighs and rear ends, but tended to be short and poorly endowed. Yumi had at least one Caucasian ancestor because the elements of earth and water had mixed well in her. While having the natural advantages of her race, she was also fairly tall at five seven, had blue eyes and would need far more than a training bra. Yumi was also a great cook. She was a step behind Miranda in breakfast items, but, not surprisingly, had a far more natural touch with dishes like teriyaki, tempura and sushi, some of my favorite foods. I've mentioned Omaha's restaurant weakness before and one area it's weakest is Japanese food. I've been to many Japanese restaurants and have yet to find a decent one in the region, much less Omaha. So Yumi would be very welcome.

Kaylee and Yumi were big changes, but not nearly as big as The Lodge. Kelly and Miranda had graduated Suma Cum Laude and had many offers each that would be lucrative, help them develop as chefs and potentially help them promote themselves personally allowing them to become very successful. I was terrified. The obvious thing for the two of them to do would be scatter to the four winds and take Travis and Jake with them.

That scared me. I'd gone through a lot hoping to gain allies. In a simple snap, everything I'd worked for and all the danger I had faced could be meaningless. I knew I could manipulate Kelly and Miranda, a little seeming, maybe a little dabbling, I could make them stay. I would also lose all my self respect.

I kept my mouth shut and my magic to myself and went to my smithy. I started working on an Ulfberht sword to focus my concentration so I didn't start doing anything I might regret later. I wasn't terribly successful with the sword making. I'd had quite the crash course in blade and smithy work, but I was still very much a beginner. An Ulfberht sword is likely one of the most complex things one might ever smith. Some things could only be learned by doing and practice. I had to accept failure in repeated efforts to achieve the goal of competence.

After a few days I noticed Kelly and Miranda spending a lot of time together. I happened to come down late for breakfast one morning and noticed they were the only one's still there.

"Have the two of you decided what your next step is?" I asked, trying to feign casual disinterest.

Kelly replied, "We've decided not to accept any of the offers and open a restaurant of our own here in Omaha."

"That's nice." I said trying to maintain my composure. "If you need any investors, let me know."

"We're perfectly capable of doing this ourselves." Miranda said quite archly.

They were both giving me matching patronizing looks that said I was a total idiot to think they would need my help.

"Well, if you need an investor. You know how to find me." I said taking my plate and my drink with me and beating a hasty retreat. I could hear them both giggling.

A few weeks later, as I worked in my machine shop office, I looked up to see they had let themselves in.

"We'd like to talk to you." Miranda began.

They needed an investor. They'd had a few weeks to do some research and realize just how crazy expensive opening a restaurant could be. They had some ideas and some sketches that looked like a good idea to me. I helped.

"Do you want some decorating ideas?" I asked.

"NO!" Kelly answered too fast.

"Then I'll leave the decorating to you two." I answered.

They still didn't want any ideas from me or it wouldn't be 'their' place. My money though, that they were okay with taking. I could see how their attitude would upset some people. It didn't much bother me. If they stayed in Omaha, Travis and Jake stayed with them.

I attended several planning sessions, doing my best to keep my opinion to myself. They kept having problems coming to agreement on choice after choice. After three such sessions I'd had enough.

"I think I see what the problem is." I said.

Kelly and Miranda, clearly annoyed at each other both snapped at me, "What!?"

"I believe that you lack an overall theme. With a theme, each individual design decision would become more clear. Further, reviewing your ideas for a rustic look and menu, I have an idea." I answered

"Okay, what's your idea?" Kelly asked actually looking a little curious.

"In the great age of exploration, great exploration societies like the Royal Geographic Society and the National Geographic Society would set up luxurious lodges in far flung parts of the globe as forward operating bases to facilitate future exploration." I said.

"So what does that have to do with us?" Miranda replied.

"As far as I am aware, no such lodge was ever built in this region. After Lewis and Clark passed through, further exploration and settlement happened too quickly. Our conceit would be that such a lodge was built, and this restaurant is it." I offered.

"That's actually pretty good." Kelly said with some reluctance.

"Yeah." Miranda with a tone of surprise I didn't think was entirely warranted.

"Perhaps you can start with it as a working idea, and, if you come up with something better later, you can change?" I suggested.

"Yeah that makes sense." Answered Miranda.

"Let's go with that for now." Kelly agreed.

After that, design questions went much more smoothly.

I quietly arranged the purchase of a big honk of land on Dodge, a major Omaha thoroughfare, across from the Children's Hospital and several lots nearby of struggling businesses. I had everything demolished and graded. I brought in and introduced Kelly and Miranda to a good architect who took the project in hand.

The Lodge, the name and theme stuck, was still a Monolithic Dome. However, with heavy use of timber and stone, it looked like something that might have been built on the frontier back in the eighteenth century. One unusual feature was "wasting" a large swath of land on garden. The idea was that the side of the restaurant where patrons sat would look out at something that, with good landscape design, would give a sense of peaceful pre-urban sylvan beauty. Parking lots and streets would be kept on the side of the kitchen and reception areas.

The restaurant would be open in the morning for breakfast and lunch till two, then close for a few hours and re-open for dinner. It was amazing what the girls, and it was their doing not the architect's or mine, figured out to make the place more light and airy in the morning and more dark leathers, wood and stone in the evening. There was a state of the art kitchen with much nicer fixtures then they could have ever hoped to afford on their own, but which would help in food quality and minimizing human work load. A diner with a discerning palate will want a substantial amount of human labor in his food, for example, a human sous chef to make fresh ingredients from scratch every day. It really doesn't matter to the diner whether the grease traps in the ventilation above the stove are human hand washed or automated self-washing, except that self-washing machines probably do a better job. Ditto for deep fryers and dish washers. They would also save the girls huge money on labor.

The dining area was divided into a large dining room and bar. The dining room was set up to be spread out booths with comfy cushioned seats each with a nice view of the garden. The bar was interior and had some video screens for sporting events.

There was also a reception area. Since the place served breakfast, it would need a top of the line coffee bar. Which, unlike some lame chain, actually made high quality coffee, tea and hot chocolate. They also had was oranges recently orange juice. Of course the danish were real baked that morning or the night before and there were breakfast sandwiches using their incredible high quality ingredients. One could order these things in the restaurant, or buy them fast in the reception area. This sucked in huge business from the medical complex across the street and the huge surge in commuters who funneled down Dodge every morning.

In the evening, the reception area morphed into a place where one waited for one's table and perhaps mingled about as an extension of the bar. The Lodge would become a major "place to go" after arts performances where artists and major local patrons would meet and greet, hanging out in the bar and reception area over drinks and small food plates.

The food was as good as one might imagine. Breakfast was great. It's amazing how much better quality ingredients taste made fresh by hand. They embarrassed a lot of other breakfast places in town, but dinner is where they really shined.

The menu was re-written every night. They tended to have categories, but what was in that category could change. For example, they would have a fish dish almost every night, but that dish depended what came and looked good on the plane. Omaha, like many US cities has a daily air delivery of fresh fish, which is about as fresh as you can get when you're over a thousand miles from the nearest ocean. However, what wild caught item that comes fresh and smelling good can and does change every day. If you're looking at a menu that has "Salmon" printed permanently, you have to assume it's crappy stuff from a freezer. So there's generally a fish item, but it depends what's on the plane. If there's nothing good on the plane, and that happens, even some Fridays in Lent, then there's no fish. There's also an ever changing pasta dish and chicken dish. The heart of the menu is steak. They have very good, grass fed beef, turned into exquisite, made to order meals. For most places, that would be enough, but they also have excellent Bison, which is more protein rich than beef, but lower cal than chicken. I personally love Bison, it's a little more expensive but the taste is amazing. I might add they have a very nice smoker so there are frequent smoked meat options on the menu as well. The smoked bison ribs are divine.

The heart of the heart of what makes the Lodge's menu special is wild game. The Lodge will pretty consistently have wild caught antelope, venison or elk available on the menu. That points to Travis' new vocation, he's the Lodge's Hunter. Travis makes a point of knowing when and where legal hunts are around the country, getting permits, traveling to them in his Jeep Truck, and bringing home meat. It means Travis is away a lot, but he's doing what he loves, and getting well paid for it. Is it a risk for Travis to be out by himself? Yes, but it would take some serious intel to know when he's leaving and where he was going, making setting up an ambush hard, particularly as Travis will always try and take an alternate road home. Yes it's still dangerous because we have one fewer gun hand back at the ranch when he's gone, but we have to live our lives. We could hide in a bunker and eat powdered food, but we still wouldn't be perfectly safe and it wouldn't be much of a life.

The Lodge could keep prices relatively low below because they weren't really paying for their location and equipment which is a huge part of the bill in most restaurants and they also had lower labor costs with state of the art kitchen technology. Further, they knew if they ran into a problem, they had a strategic reserve, me.

The day the Lodge opened, Jake turned twenty-one. He'd been working around town at different bars building his skills and became the main bartender at the Lodge when it opened. It was my idea to have a block of artesian water ice, frozen to minus one hundred degrees sitting on a cooling slab in the middle of the bar top. Every time someone ordered a drink with ice, there was the theater of the ice cubes being broken with a pick into irregular chunks and placed in the glass. People dug it. Of course, the main attraction was Jake behind the bar and women noticed and started to show up. Jake was like a younger, handsomer, buffer Patrick Swayze in a Chippendales outfit. I swear Kelly made sure his pants and shirts were extra tight. Women would come and they would like. It's a basic rule of bars that if women show up, men follow, and they did.

At first the restaurant was quiet, which was good because every new place needs some time to work out the kinks and figure things out. Then word of mouth got out and business started to come. The Lodge became a big deal overnight.

Officially, for my investment, I had ten percent ownership. I had not thought of my investment in terms of financial return. However, as the restaurant became known and full every night, it looked like it would become one of my most profitable. There was a badly underserved population of people in Omaha who liked quality food and they came. The reservation book quickly became full for three months out.

I was happy because my people were happy. With the Lodge doing well, Kelly and Miranda weren't going anywhere. That meant Travis and Jake weren't going anywhere. It helped to know that Travis was happy, he was hunting and earning well doing what he loved and was made for. Jake was happy, he'd earned his GED, become a productive citizen and he wouldn't admit it, but being seen as hot stroked his ego in a way it had never been stroked before and he liked it. Jake's mother back in Lowell was ecstatic that her son had straightened up and flew right. She was thinking of moving out to Omaha to be closer to her son.

The lodge also had a small stage with a piano. Tamar started to come and sing. Like I have said before, Tamar is far from ugly, but she also isn't physically super hot either. Victoria's Secret and Sports Illustrated aren't going to be knocking on the door. That said, Tamar knew how to wear a dress. She also knew how to play the piano and mostly she knew how to sing. She could hold that room at will. People started coming for the concerts more than the food. I was there for every one.

Tamar met someone at the Lodge after one of her concerts and got a job with a professional fund raising firm. She became their "Designated Hitter." The one who would actually go and speak to the well heeled donors. She got paid in a complex formula commission structure. She quickly became very successful. I watched her accounts and she stopped drawing on my credit cards and her savings, but she started buying a lot of fancy new clothes. The Subaru I had bought her got traded for a Lexus.

There was a particular horseshoe booth between the bar and the main room. It doesn't have a nice exterior view, but it did have a good view of the entire inside of the restaurant including the stage. That was my table and it was held for me each night until I called and released it. I was there a lot of nights. I paid full price and I tipped well. I also called promptly when I wasn't coming so they could use the table.

Which leads to Tamar. It would be easy to say we'd lived happily ever after, but it wouldn't be true. Part of it, I'm sure, was my fault. I could have dropped all other women, faithfully courting her to the exclusion of all others, but I hadn't. In addition to Tamar, I now had four girls living in my home. Which doesn't include the hijinks around Holly's return visit. I have girls in other ports like my corporate attorney in Chicago and the Speer-mint twins. There's a list of women around Omaha who have made it clear they would like return visits to the garret and then we live in a modern age. I'm on a number of local arts boards. If a performer comes through who happens to be sexy, female and prepared to be seduced, well it happens. It's not like a Brittney Spears or Lady Gaga has found her way to my garret, but my garret has known more than one prima donna. In my own defense, and yes I know it's very thin, I can say the garret gets a lot less business than it did before Tamar.

That said, there are periods when we are so close. We spend every waking moment with each other. I'm not comfortable and can't function in her absence. Then there are other periods when I don't want her around. She's has a better sensitivity to this cycle and always knows when to give me room. Do the close times mean I'm hopelessly in love with her and should marry her and start making babies? Do the don't want her around periods mean it's just an infatuation that I should let run it's course? I don't know.

I did hear Tamar and Kelly having a conversation about it at one point.

"Doesn't it bother you that he sleeps around with all those women?" Kelly asked in a frustrated and puzzled tone of voice.

"Not really." Tamar answered in her superhumanly calm and knowing way.

"It doesn't?" Kelly responded incredulously.

"Every couple has to set the boundaries that work for them." Tamar answered cryptically.

"Boundaries?" Kelly asked.

"Would it bother you to find out Jake had gone to Hooters or watched a Victoria's Secret fashion show on TV?" Tamar answered a question with a question as she so loves to do.

"No, not really I guess. He actually does that and it just revvs him up for me." Kelly answered.

"How about if you caught him making out with a waitress?" Tamar continued.

"That would be a real problem." Kelly answered.

"What if you found he had been lured to the bar storage closet by three bikini models and was having sex with all three?" Tamar asked.

"That would totally end it. I would kick him out and not take him back." Kelly said in a tone that implied she felt proud about this as it showed she had self-respect.

"There are women who would think going to Hooters was as bad as the bikini models. I'm sure you've heard of women with looser standards too." Tamar answered.

"Well, yeah." Kelly answered.

"Jack having a lot of girlfriends on the side doesn't really bother me." Tamar answered.

"Why not and why don't you sleep around some too?" Kelly continued, clearly not getting it.

"You think I should try and get Jake back for a little extra-curricular activity then?" Tamar teased.

"No way! I meant with other guys." Kelly answered, clearly a bit threatened.

"Other guys don't interest me much." Tamar answered.

"Are you a lesbian?" Kelly asked.

"No, I prefer being with men." Tamar answered matter of factly.

"I've seen you at the restaurant, plenty of quality guys would like to take you home." Kelly answered.

"That's true, but very few men really interest me." Tamar said cryptically again.

"Why?" Kelly asked.

"There are very few men in the world who have certain attributes I desire. Of those, many are already spoken for. Of the remainder, many are insane or broken. Compared to them, Jack's quirks seem very minor." Tamar answered in the way that she loves which seems to answer the question, but really only exposes a thousand more questions.

"Maybe, but I've seen the way he looks at you. If it bothers you, just tell him he has to make a choice. I'm sure he'll choose you." Kelly said matter of factly.

"If Jack and I are to be together, we will be together for a very long time. It would be bad to start by being a denier, demanding that he give things up for me. It will create a resentment that will echo through our whole relationship. Jake is young, he hasn't had time to grow attached to many things. But imagine if you demanded he give up riding his motorcycle? There are women who do because it is dangerous." Tamar answered.

"He would give up the motorcycle, but he would always resent it." Kelly answered, starting to get it a bit.

"If Jack gives up the girls on the side because he genuinely doesn't want them anymore, that would be fine. If he needs his fun on the side to feel manly and cool, then it's a quirk I'm prepared to live with. In the end though, what happens must emerge organically, because he wants it and I want it or it won't work." Tamar said with her customary certainty.

"I guess it is your choice. Are you saying you caught Jake in the storeroom with three bikini models?" Kelly asked with a note of concern.

"No, no, you need not worry. Jake is totally devoted to you. I can tell." Tamar answered merrily.

They giggled for a bit and the conversation shifted to other topics before Kelly left to get some work done at the Lodge.

I also felt there was something playing below the surface beyond what was spoken. I think Tamar got a kick out of me having so many women. To tame a man so in demand would be quite the validation for her. At the same time, I think, she felt like I might lose interest if she made it too easy to get her. It seemed like we were two celestial bodies in orbit, whether we would merge or go our own ways was still not clear.

We had talked about her self defense needs. I had made her a long thin knife she could easily conceal. I had worked strength into the blade and wicked cutting ability. It was like a long razor with a light plastic handle.

It turned out Tamar was not interested in joining us for three gun. Roughing it in the woods, or even the RV, was not her thing. She only wanted a pistol. We went to a local indoor range and tried a wide variety of different pistols in different calibers. She ended up picking 40 S&W as a caliber, which was very convenient and, at my suggestion, got a Glock 23. 40 S&W was a shortened version of the 10 mm. That meant I could use all the same components of my cartridges for hers except for brass. I got her a Glock 23, did a bit of breathing on it to make it easier to use and made her three mags of Stage 6. I'd be lying if I said I never thought about what would happen if one of those Stage 6s hit my armor.

It's a funny thing making weapons and armor for someone else. What happens if those weapons get turned on you? Do you really trust this person so much that you know, for sure, that you're not giving them the knife that will end up in your back?

!*** And now a word from our sponsor!

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Please help. Thank-you.


	3. Chapter 3

Warlock of Omaha Squared

Chapter 3: Shut Up and Drive

While Tamar was not into 3 Gun, Brenda was. Brenda opted to go for a fairly conventional set of 3 Gun armament. She got a high end JP AR. Yes, an AR which I despise so well. The truth is, an AR may be a terrible option to take to war or depend on for your life, but for 3 Gun, maybe not so bad. The advantages of an AR and it's direct impingement system are that it's light and has more controllable recoil, which makes it faster and more accurate. The problem is direct impingement is also painfully unreliable, and when it fails, needs a ridiculous amount of work to correct. You wouldn't want an AR in foxhole, or even a gunfight, but at a race where it can be frequently babied? Maybe. It makes 3 Gun into a sport rather than a readiness training activity, but to each their own.

Brenda also got a Glock 17 and a semi-auto Remington shotgun. Her whole outfit with scopes, belts and holsters was under ten grand. We had gone through another a whole new generation of technology for my optics. The chips were a generation faster, lighter, smaller and more energy efficient. The CCDs were another generation and order of magnitude more sensitive and our mastery of producing scopes had increased as well. Apple was trying to use actual sapphire for it's cell phones. Sapphire would be much harder and more durable than the best glass. Apple hadn't yet mastered large scale production, but was working on it. For five lenses? Very doable.

There are, maybe, half a dozen serious, high-end, scope manufactures in the world. They each preach the virtues of their lens coatings to make their lenses more resilient, less prone to fogging, dusting, smudging etc. I had entered their computer systems and taken their ever so secret proprietary formulas, replicated them in my lab and tested them. I had used the pick of the litter for my new sapphires. My plan was to produce a new set of lens coatings combining the best features of all their knowledge for my next generation and maybe push the chemistry myself.

The fact that I had a new generation of scopes meant that there was a set available which Brenda was happy to use on her gear.

I kind of liked that Brenda was using more conventional gear. It would serve as a baseline for my gear.

I was also tempted not to share my old scopes and hoard them as backups. However, having a second user of my scope system would help push the state of my art much faster. Not to mention, having another capable gun hand back at the ranch was never a bad thing. If it came up that I needed one of the scopes back, I'm sure Brenda would render it quickly.

Brenda and I had also been working on the software. Each build had made it faster, more solid, smarter and more user friendly.

Brenda and Tamar had worked together building proficiency. I had bought Tamar a large pile of Stage One, i.e. Winchester 40S&W ammo to learn with. I was paying for whatever Brenda wanted to buy to practice and put down range.

We had been to two different 3 Gun matches since. Brenda had teething troubles at the first, but did reasonably well at the second. With Big Baby and ever greater confidence, I had cracked the top ten at both.

I was worried about how the Speers would take to Brenda. I shouldn't have worried. The Speers treated Brenda like the little sister they never had and were gracious about sharing me. Stacy and Lina were very kind giving Brenda coaching and advice on her gear. For me, having company in the RV on the drive back and forth made it remarkably more pleasant.

There was a reception this evening at the Durham. I had tried to get a moment with Tamar to ask her along, but hadn't been able to get her on the phone. I had texted her to which she had replied, "Thank-you so much for inviting me, but I'm busy. Have to take a rain check."

Normally she liked to attend these things. They would have a significant portion of Omaha's people with money who liked to donate to things. Having met someone socially before having to convince them to pony up was generally an advantage. I expected she wanted to be pursued. She wanted to not be taken for granted. I'd have to work on that.

So, since Tamar was busy, I went stag. I used to wear a silk tuxedo, bespoke in Hong Kong, to these things. It was nice for a bit, made me feel like James Bond. Unfortunately, it didn't really work with guns and the armor and now it doesn't fit. So I came up with another solution. As I jumped out of the Infiniti, I tapped my coat at a particular point under the left lapel. To all appearances, I was now wearing that silk tux. I'd have to check my "hat" at the door, no solution is perfect.

I got to the Durham early which meant I could park in the lot. The Durham lot has a main lot, on the same level as the museum entrance and unusual for Omaha, far too small. They have a secondary lot below, but that takes a long set of stairs. One can miss the second lot, as it can fill up on busy occasions like tonight, and have to park on the street. Quite a pain. I found one of the last spots in the lower lot and humped myself up the stairs.

I got to the line at the door. It moved quickly and I quickly got crossed off security's list and was inside.

Was going to something like this dangerous? To some extant, yes. Bad guys could set up an ambush in several places. However, the event would have extensive security, reinforced by paid for police officers and the police would come in massive force very swiftly if there was a disturbance. Everything is a trade off. One has to have a life.

I walked through the massive reception/lobby area and proceeded down to the special exhibit area. Having been to a few of these rodeos at this museum, I took the stairs as I knew the elevators would be swamped. The special exhibit hall was on the same level as the lower parking, if only there was some way to get directly from car to exhibit, one might miss a lot of stairs up and down. Sigh. Unfortunately, that would be much too good an idea to actually be done. So stairs up followed by stairs down it would be, long, long staircases each way.

I got down to the exhibit. Tonight was the debut of the Chebelforth Collection of Egyptian Artifacts. I had read up. Edmund Chebelforth had been a rare American explorer of Egypt in the late nineteenth century. He had made a huge discovery of a major Pharaoh's tomb. He had packed all the loose items and even had removed and preserved the walls. The collection was one of the finest still in private hands and the Egyptian government was relentlessly struggling to have it repatriated. Mubarak's government had almost succeeded when it fell and the confusion in Egypt since had put everything on hold. No doubt trying to build good will and money for another round should the legal wrangling begin again, Edmund Chebelforth IV, the direct descendant of the original discoverer, had put the collection on tour. The collection hade been on tour now for three years and having been everywhere better already, had finally made it's way here to Omaha.

I wasn't a huge fan of Egyptian artifacts. However, I paid a pretty big chunk to be on the board and get invited to these things. In the old days, meeting women had been high on my why do it list, but that was reduced these days. There were some women present who were in my little black book, some that I had remembered thinking I might like a return visit with. I'd also seen some new women whose attention looked like it might be worthwhile to cultivate. But I was standing in the main foyer nibbling on hors d'oeuvres and nursing a drink with a guy who apparently lived in Omaha and had sold millions of Christmas music albums. We were chatting amiably while I looked over to where the snack bar normally would be situated but now was where Mr. Chebelforth was holding court with senior members of the board and looked like they were having a pleasant conversation, maybe hearing some interesting and funny stories. Not to mention the best drinks and snacks. I could wade in, but I hadn't really donated enough money to be on the senior board so I suspected I wouldn't be welcome.

Christmas carol guy and I got into a conversation about small versus large venue amps for a bit then the carol guy checked his watch and made polite excuses, "Oh, I need to go home and put the kids to bed."

I let the conversation end quickly. I didn't think he wanted to exchange phone numbers, he was nominally a celebrity. I suggested, "Don't forget to try the Lodge, the food is great and the prices are reasonable."

He smiled and waved, then went off to the exit. I turned to find Mr. Chebelforth standing behind me.

"Uh, hello. Welcome to Omaha." I managed to stutter out despite my great surprise. I can't say that I had been craving Mr. Chebelforth's attention. He looked like a prosperous man. He stood maybe five eight, receding hair line, well fed to the point that he was putting on a bit of a barrel chested paunch. He was very well dressed in the subtle manner of the extremely rich, though in a look that seemed a bit dated. Perhaps it was part of the act? Maybe he'd just gotten into sartorial habits in his youth which he didn't feel like changing.

"Thank-you, it's very nice to be in Omaha." He replied smiling and offered me his hand. We shook.

"Have you had a chance to view my collection?" He asked politely.

"Honestly, no I haven't." I lied.

Mr. Chebelforth proceeded to give me a private tour of the exhibit. He was funny and charming and knew a lot about each item, both their recent history and what they had been meant for in ancient Egypt. I followed, listened and asked occasional questions.

He told me a bit of family history, "Edmund Chebelforth the Second, my grandfather, or as family calls him, 'two' was a bit of a wastrel. Apparently he was into gambling, women and jazz. He had to be asked to step aside by the trustees as it turned out he was selling bits of the collection for money for his bad habits."

"That's too bad." I responded politely.

"Maybe," Mr. Chebelforth added slyly, "but he was probably the most interesting one of us and the most fun at a party."

Then we both laughed.

By the end of the conversation a boring evening had become a really fun and interesting one and I was very grateful for Mr. Chebelforth's attentions. As a reflex when the conversation seemed to be slowing down I added, "While you're in town, you should try the Lodge, it's probably the best restaurant in town."

"That sounds like a great idea." He replied then continued, "but I'm busy tomorrow night," and I was expecting the polite brush off when he said, "How about the night after?"

"That sounds great," I answered a bit surprised.

"When should we meet?" He asked.

"Whenever is good for you?" I answered.

"How about eight?" He offered.

"Eight is fine." I answered.

We exchanged phone numbers and he went off to the next thing. I was quite surprised. Hanging out with Chebelforth felt like what it might be like to hang out with the "Most Interesting Man in the World" from the beer commercials. It was kind of cool and vindicating. Of all the people at the show Chebelforth could have chosen to hang out with, he chose me. At one point, I was mildly worried he was gay, but he had told some stories about himself and was clearly very straight. Maybe I was a pleasantly attentive audience to stroke his ego. Regardless, it would be a minor coup that he was coming to the Lodge. He wasn't Adele or something, but Chebelforth was known in the right crowds and his explorer lineage would go well with the faux explorer theme of the Lodge. I couldn't wait to tell the girls.

*** And now a word from our sponsor!***

Please imagine a chorus line of attractive, scantily clad, very fit high steppers in the gender of you choice!

This writer, like the story teller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

pay

pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	4. Chapter 4

Warlock of Omaha Squared

Chapter 4: Sometimes It Just Don't Pay

"Ed who?" Kelly asked with a look of confused disdain.

"Edmund Chebelforth, the guy who's discoveries are on display at the Durham?" I answered a bit frustrated.

"Dur what?" Kelly said with same look as before.

"The Durham is the local history museum Kelly, Jack's on the board." Miranda answered.

"Oh, so how big a deal is that?" Kelly asked.

Obviously they were not as excited as I was about the idea of Edmund coming to the Lodge. Yes I was a little frustrated about that. I wanted them to be impressed at what I had managed and the cool people I was hanging out with. Instead they were making me feel more like a geek.

"It's about as big a deal as Omaha gets. Further the collection has been on tour and displayed at nearly every major history museum in the country. Chebelforth the first is considered one of America's greatest explorers. That the current Chebelforth is at the Lodge will burnish the explorer vibe. More important, he's rich on an at least an order of magnitude more than me and swims in those social circles. If he likes the Lodge and tells his friends it could make the place a thing. Michelin stars, whole new class of clientele, celebrity for the chefs, book deals, TV shows. Is that a big enough deal yet?" I said, perhaps overstating my case and being a bit of a drama queen.

"Is he likely to show up with an entourage? If so, how big?" Miranda asked quite practically.

The question caught me by surprise, mostly because it was so obvious and I had been so oblivious. I assumed it would just be Chebelforth and we could continue our conversation from the museum. But Chebelforth was crazy rich and not all that popular in certain interesting parts of the world, both things that might mean entourage. For all I knew, he'd move with a hundred people and need to fill the restaurant. For all I knew, he'd have a Dark Glass security detail.

"Uh, I'm not sure." I answered lamely but honestly. "I'll try to lock that down and give you a text.

I texted Chebelforth. "How many will be in your party tomorrow night?"

Less then ten minutes later I got a reply, "Just me."

Kelly and Miranda had already left so I texted Miranda the info.

Miranda's reply came promptly, "That's simple then. He'll sit with you at your table. I spoke with Anne," Anne was one of the waitresses and fancied herself a bit of a photographer, "and she'll bring her gear."

I loved the idea of a portrait of Chebelforth, with me, looking like cozy buddies hanging in the restaurant and maybe the house.

I spent the next couple days running down details on a bunch of little projects. Someone on the outside might think I can devote my time exclusively to big plans and producing ever more ambitious weapons and cool toys. They would be wrong. My life accumulates remarkable amounts of paper work. Twenty clients asking for reports and updates, two universities constantly wanting to talk to me about silly niggling details and budgets, cars that need oil changes and new tires, buildings that have unique piping needing plumbers, board memberships, correspondence, it just goes on and on. Sometimes things just sail, sometimes it seems like for every fire I put out, twenty more pop up. I had just finished changing all the burnt out light bulbs in the place when two surveillance cameras decided to die. I hoped White Man has these kind of problems. He probably has trusted lieutenants he can delegate scut work too, being much too busy picking out his next fancy suit. I had a staff, and yeah, the cooking, cleaning and housework they did was huge. Brenda did yeowoman work in the lab and my shops. Among other things, most of the type 2 and 3 got loaded by her. Still, the extra bits of scut work always seemed to climb higher, not lower.

I wanted to work on the Ulfberht sword. I wanted to test my magic and see if something had changed. I wanted to talk to Tamar about "Fox People." Instead, I was showing the plumber in and re-routing a drainpipe so it wouldn't put water on camera 17. Up and coming world power player and master of taking out the garbage and cleaning the can because tomato soup had spilled in there.

Oh, and Tamar, who I really wanted with me when I met Chebelforth at the restaurant, was in Dallas until Monday. Perfect. I was basically a tongue tied geek while she had the gift of knowing exactly how to handle people. Yes, once again raising the question of was I being handled. Were there any real feelings between us? I could feel I was moving into one of those periods where I couldn't handle her not being present and she wasn't present. On top of that, Travis was off elk hunting somewhere and Jake was in Chicago learning the ways of the wolfish force and hopefully not being killed or worse by the Fomor.

I was also nervous. More nervous than a non-gay guy should be going to have dinner with an older man. I was thinking about what I should wear and things to say.

In the end I decided to just wear my normal outfit. I'd worked out a menu with Kelly and Miranda. If Chebelforth wanted to order something specific, we would oblige him, of course, otherwise we would get a table of biggest hits like they do on the food tourism shows. Hopefully he'd like everything or at least some things so that he would tell his friends. I would wine and dine him. At the end, Anne would come and take our picture. At least, that was the plan.

I arrived at the restaurant to realize I had missed a huge detail. It was Halloween. I'm no encyclopedic expert of the supernatural, but I know something about Halloween calls out a lot of supernatural crazy. My normal strategy for Halloween is to fort up at home and be extra careful. Instead I was out and about with no backup. Secondly, everyone was in costume. I felt like a total jamoke for being dressed normally on a night like this and just in case I was feeling a little okay with not being dressed up somehow, another nice jab to all my insecurities about this meeting, the place was just rocking people in amazing costume. It also rankled because I really wanted the Lodge, and by extension me, to come off as cool and mature. Instead, the place was doing it's best to come off as a spastic teenager.

Of course, there was another level even beyond that. I desperately wanted to be the guy that thought through every move from every angle and had plans and counter plans. Then something like this would happen and I'd realize I missed a HUGE detail. Again.

At least I got to the restaurant early and got a nice parking spot. I settled into my booth with a glass of the house bourbon and ice and enjoyed the view. Amongst the crowd, there were a number of attractive young women wearing the sexy costumes of the day.

Chebelforth was supposed to show up at eight. By eight thirty, I was nervous. I had almost given up when he showed up at eight forty. The extra time to think was perfect for my anxiety. My anxiety was so grateful.

I quickly got up and shook Chebelforth's hand, "Welcome to the Lodge. I'm so glad you could make it."

Chebelforth still looked like the tanned rich guy version of the most interesting man in the world. He was wearing some slacks, a shirt and jacket, but no tie. I noticed his casually worn shoes happened to be a bespoke English make that cost over a thousand bucks a pair. He shook my hand back and said, "Happy to be here."

I noticed he was wearing gloves. Fancy gloves. More expensive than his shoes. Kind of weird though. Then it snapped. It must be some sort of costume thing! As in the costume I had totally forgotten to wear.

I had a signal set up with the Bartender, as soon as we sat down an appetizer would appear. It was my favorite, pot stickers filled with fatty smoked brisket, shrimp and other goodness. They were made fresh, never frozen, and pan seared. I don't know how many I had eaten in previous visits.

The pot stickers showed up at the table and I asked, "Is there something I can get you to drink?"

"Do they have any The Asters?" He asked.

The Asters is some very fancy, very high quality, very expensive single malt whiskey from some tiny island west of Scotland. It's only sold in one age, fifty years. It's something of a holy grail for scotch people. I have been lobbying Miranda and Kelly for a few months that it was worth the investment of buying a case, or at least a bottle. It was a lot of money to put into one thing and not being fancy whisky drinkers, they didn't get the appeal. I knew being one of the few places in the Midwest that offered The Asters would bring prestige. The nearest place that offered The Asters by the shot was in Kansas City and charged $400.00 a glass. I knew the bottles would also be an investment. As they sat behind the bar or in the storage room the bottles would get older and more valuable. If something happened to the distillery, the price could skyrocket. I think I was making headway in lobbying for the drink, but it was not in inventory yet.

I was desperately hoping the bartender, Bill I think his name was, would play it cool, just apologize and say we didn't have The Asters. Then I would want Bill to offer some of the better whiskeys in inventory. Unfortunately, Bill was hired to watch the bar so that Jake could have some nights off. That meant Miranda and Kelly had hired Bill to fill Jake's shoes, or really, Jake's tight pants, not because he was bright. So instead Bill said, "What's The Asters, I've never heard of that? Is it a special martini?"

Perfect answer to make the place seem low class and ignorant. It was all I could do not to groan.

"Uh, no. Don't worry about it. Just give me a glass of the house red please." Chebelforth responded politely.

Sigh.

As we waited for his drink, I smiled and said, "You should try the appetizer, they're very good."

Chebelforth smiled patronizingly and daintily picked up one pot sticker and ate it. Then made no comment on the food but went on to say, "I'm glad to see you tonight."

He was? Wow. Maybe this wouldn't be a total cluster buck.

Chebelforth continued, "I understand a Miss Katherine Chambers has come to live with you?"

That was weird. Why would this guy be interested in Tamar? But I still said, "Yes she has."

Chebelforth continued. "You may remember me telling you that my grandfather was a bit of a wastrel. Sold off some of the artifacts in the collection to support his habits. Apparently, one object has somehow come into Miss Chamber's possession."

I had no idea what this guy could be talking about and blurted out, "I'm sorry, but most of her possessions were sold off or given away when she came. They were just discount store junk and cheaper to get rid of and re-buy here than move."

Chebelforth smiled another patronizing, world weary smile, clearly requiring some effort at patience, making me feel like a complete dunce and said, "There was a small ivory statuette. Perhaps a foot tall. I imagine it would be Egyptian in appearance. It was not sold or discarded. My investigators determined it had been shipped here."

"Oh that. Yes I remember it." I answered ever so suavely. Not.

"I'm not demanding anything. I'd give you a good price for it. But I really must have it back." He said.

The statuette, which I now remembered so well, was sitting on a table in Tamar's cottage.

"Well, it doesn't belong to me, it belongs to," and I almost said "Tamar," but with an ever so subtle jerky pause, managed to say, "Katherine. And she's not here tonight. She'll be out of town for a few days. When she gets back I'll ask her."

"That would be ever so kind. Please let me know. You have my phone number. Have a pleasant evening." Chebelforth said.

Then Chebelforth got up and left just as his glass of red wine showed up. He had eaten a grand total of one pot sticker. Great. He had probably been held up wherever he had actually eaten dinner.

Anne showed up to take the picture about five minutes after Chebelforth had left.

On the positive side, we were able to cancel most of the food we had planned.

I stayed in the booth which Miranda and Kelly could really use and sulked. Despite being miserable, I was also hungry and that couldn't be avoided so easily any more so I accepted all the items that couldn't be stopped and ate. Normally, I won't have more than one drink in a week, but I was now in a mood. By the time most of the plates were empty and my belly was full a total of three bourbons had gone down with them.

I was feeling lonely, stupid and more like a stupid geeky spaz then I had felt in years. I was sitting in the booth nursing the third bourbon's ice trying to decide if I should have desert or just go home when she walked up.

She was wearing the heck out of a little black dress. It was a two piece version of the Channel classic showing a lot of midriff, and vaguely gave a sense of sub-continental India. She had also accessorized with a little black clutch and matching heels that had to be at least five inches tall.

However, the real noticeable thing was her costume. She was blue. Every bit of her that showed was blue. He hair was almost black, but when a light would hit it, one would see it was midnight blue. Her skin was a deep ocean blue. Her lips and nails were painted darker blue. Her eyes were blue, even her sclera was faintly blue. And the whole thing was hot. I was enough of a geek to remember Captain Pike and the green dancing slave girl. The blue set off all the same circuits in my brain.

I was once a comic book fan, but hadn't paid as much attention in the last couple decades and assumed she was doing one of the more modern female heroes. Good for her.

She walked up to my booth and said with a charming foreign lilt, "There's no place else to sit down, do you mind if I join you?"

This had never happened to me before at the Lodge. In fact, there were not that many other times, period, that a girl has wandered over to me without benefit of seeming.

It made sense though. As I looked around, the place was hopping, there really wasn't anywhere else to sit down. "She'll probably just sit for a moment, maybe make some pleasant chit chat, and then leave to join her friends, or perhaps I'll just abandon the table to her since I'm just about ready to leave anyway. No doubt the Lodge could use the table for paying customers." I thought.

So I said, "Sure have a seat. Always nice to have some company."

She smiled and sat. My booth is a horseshoe and I was sitting at the back. I expected her to sit at one of the ends, mostly keeping an eye out for friends or another place to sit. Instead, she scooted in a bit, which did amazing things to her top. She didn't end up sitting right next to me, but she was way closer than she had to be.

She had a glass of wine, but she said, "What's good to drink here?"

"I don't drink much," I said, "but the house bourbon isn't bad."

She raised two fingers to Bill who came and got her order for bourbon.

I was settling back and ready to be ignored when she turned and said to me, "Come here much?"

"Why yes I do. In fact they save me this table." I answered.

"I love this place. I think it's the best restaurant in town. I really like the explorer lodge theme, it gives the place some class." She responded with a foreign lilt in her voice vibrating straight to places deep inside me. More importantly, it was the sort of indirect compliment I really needed at that second.

I smiled and said, "Glad you like it. I've never seen you here before?"

"Well I only discovered the place a few months ago and it's not easy getting a reservation." She answered and it made sense. It wasn't easy to get a reservation.

"May I ask your name?" I asked.

"Novi," She answered. "And you?"

"Jack Fox." I replied and then continued, "Are you hungry? Is there something I can get you?" I asked.

"Not that's on the menu." She said with a sly smile.

"Are you waiting for someone?" I asked.

"Yes and I'm hoping he stops asking me silly questions." She asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Perhaps we could go somewhere else and have a nightcap?" I asked hoping I wasn't totally misreading her.

"I thought you'd never ask." She said.

Wow. I knew I wasn't sending any seemings out. Yes I was taller and more buff these days, but I knew I still exuded nerd. I knew women didn't come to me for my looks. My illusory clothes were a blazer suit with blue suede oxfords. So she wasn't likely responding to my dazzling style. I'd been sitting alone morosely eating some dinner. But this crazy hot girl wanted to go home with me. There was a time I would have been confused and stuttered my way out of this, but a bit of success with the fairer sex and some confidence got my next question out.

"Would you like me to follow your car or would you like to follow mine?"

"I came by taxi." She announced.

"Then perhaps you'll let me give you ride?" I asked.

"I imagine it would be a well reciprocated favor." She replied.

We then proceeded to get up and out of there. I put her in the passenger seat of my truck and zipped us the five minute drive home in three.

We ended up in the garret. Our bodies immediately clenched as we struggled to take off our own clothes and remove the others. When the clothes came off, she was hotter underneath than the clothes promised and they had promised a lot. We were in the bed fast and it was good. She was strong and lithe and seemed to know how to move in ways no woman ever had with me before. It was amazing. After several hours of bliss, during which she was able to accept my full new appetites, at length, she fell asleep in my arms and I, drowsy from the drink and the intense pleasure, fell asleep as well.

The next morning I woke up at five. I'd been having a nasty dream. I'd shot a girl and she'd been hollow, like the time I met Cassie. Except the girl had Novi's face. I looked around and noticed the bed was empty. At first I figured she must be in the bathroom or something. I got up and looked around and didn't find her. Then I got nervous. I popped out a tablet from a hidden compartment below the cabinets in the kitchenette and started going through security footage. It took a while, but I saw that Novi had gotten up at 2:58am, got dressed and made her way from the garret to Tamar's cottage. Novi did a good job avoiding security cameras but my surveillance is in depth. She came out of Tamar's cottage with something about a foot long, wrapped in a towel, and proceeded to jump the wall and disappear into the night.

Great.

I've mentioned before that I may be weak and unschooled, but I do have some advantages. I can work with technology which is something most human mages can't do. I also have pretty good sight.

As I understand it, most human mages are as blind to supernatural illusions as any muggle. However, they can open what is generally called the "Third Eye" and see through many illusions. There are consequences to opening this Eye. You see things you may not wish to see in a way you might not wish to see them. Then you can't forget them. Ever. I can open this eye and have done so, but you wouldn't need a whole hand to count the number of times I've done it. Just about every time I've done it, I'd ended up puking my guts out and I hadn't been looking at anything that bad. I could just imagine my response if I got a good look at one of those Ctulhu-esque Fomor. I'd probably be rendered incapable of self-defense from insanity and puking as they casually popped me in the head.

However, I had developed an alternative. I could put energy into my regular vision to see through illusions, seemings and surface appearances. I was pretty good at it, though I always knew there would be those out there better at hiding and deceiving than I was at seeing.

That said, I had to have the brains to use my vision or I would definitely not see anything. Last night I was so desperate to salve my bruised ego I hadn't even looked at Novi. Clearly Novi wasn't a muggle.

I had a pretty good idea what Novi had taken. Now I would have to explain to Tamar why something that was hers had been stolen. That reason being I couldn't keep it in my pants and was stupid. What a wonderful conversation to look forward to.

Now if Novi had taken the statuette, that meant Chebelforth was likely not a muggle as well. Once again, the desperate lonely ego had managed to convince me not to take a basic step for my self-preservation. Great.

I had to think that Novi and Chebelforth were in cahoots. It was way too much coincidence to think that Novi would come after the same statuette, just after Chebelforth had asked after it and the two not be linked. If there was one good thing about this whole situation it was that Chebelforth would be happy because he got whatever it was that he wanted and would go away.

*** And now a word from our sponsor!***

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	5. Chapter 5

**Warlock of Omaha Squared**

 **Chapter 5: Keep On Going**

So I got up. I neatened up in the garret a bit. I went and got showered and dressed. Then went down and had some breakfast. Yumi looked sleepy. She had been out at a party with Kaylee the night before which I now realized was likely a Halloween party. Duh.

Then I pulled out Baby, checked and loaded her, then did a sweep of the grounds ending with Tamar's cottage. I found nothing. The whole exercise had a closing the barn door after the horse ran off quality to it.

I entered Tamar's cottage. The front door only had a simple lock, which was unlocked. Novi had come and gone through this door, unlocking it in seconds and not bothering to relock it on the way out. I swept her cottage. I didn't spend much time in the cottage when Tamar was present and I hardly had a current inventory of her possessions, but it didn't seem like anything was missing. Except for one thing. There was side table near the front door, as one entered the main living area. The statuette had sat there on display. It was gone. There was nothing alive and nothing left as far as I could tell. So I locked the door on my way out. It was Friday. Tamar wasn't due back till Monday.

I called Tamar's cell. Got the expected answering machine message. I texted her to call me when she could.

So I went back to the forge and started working on the Ulfberht sword again. I did a lot of design work. I beat a lot of metal. I found the metal beating to be mildly therapeutic.

I could go look for Novi and Chebelforth right now. Kick in some doors. Demand the statuette back and save myself some embarrassment with Tamar. That would imply I tried to put the statuette back and tried to pretend nothing happened. But something had happened and lying to Tamar now, even in omission, seemed like a bad idea.

The smart play was to let sleeping dogs lie. Yes, it was an insult and the statuette could have been really valuable in some way, but they knew all about me and I knew nothing about them. Chasing them, all alone, was a good way to get dead or worse fast. Let it go. Chalk it up to a lesson learned the hard way in being more paranoid.

So I was surprised when I got a call at ten am.

"Hi Jack, this is Chebelforth. Have you had a chance to speak with Katherine?"

Well that didn't make any sense.

"I think you know the answer to that one." I replied a bit nasty. Like he didn't send Novi and the statuette wasn't sitting on his desk right now while he pretended to be innocent.

I continued, "I don't know why you're calling me, trying to head off some sort of police investigation?"

"What are you talking about?" He answered my question with a question. Had to admit, he sounded good, clearly an excellent actor. No doubt still playing for a police audience.

"You know full well the statuette you asked about left my premises, under mysterious circumstances, last night. I don't see how I can be of any further service to you." I answered as directly as I felt prudent.

"Then I think we have to meet." Chebelforth said, his voice very firm.

Now that sounded interesting. Hunting all over hell and back only to get wiped out in an ambush, not good. Meeting in person and letting this so and so know there would be consequences? At a place of my choosing. Sounded interesting.

"Sure. I'll meet you in fifteen minutes at the Starbucks at 72nd and Dodge." Then I hung up.

I got into my battle gear in record time and was at the Starbucks in fourteen minutes.

At fifteen minutes, a luxury rental car pulled into the lot, parked and Chebelforth got out.

Yes, I had somewhat spoiled this Starbucks during my last visit. But it was a nice place to have these meetings and since the last visit, all the staff had turned over a few times and they had installed a security camera system whose specifics I was familiar with as the installers hadn't been careful.

I was standing inside when Chebelforth came in. I was feeling tough and ready to lay down some smack. I wanted the statuette back, I could then admit it had been stolen, but proudly show that it had been retrieved by my studly self. At the least I wanted some apology or payment.

Chebelforth went to the counter, ordered a tall coffee and paid cash. Then he walked up to me.

"I know you had it stolen. You violated my home and trust," I began.

"I suggest you sit down." He interrupted me.

His voice wasn't loud, but it was very firm. Like the toughest high-school vice-principal's firm voice you ever imagined is one story down. Chebelforth's voice was firm all the way down to the center of the Earth. I sat.

My stupid stopped there. I gave Chebelforth a good look. I had never seen anything like him, which isn't saying much since I haven't seen much. That said, he sort of looked like a Black Court vampire, but not exactly. He was deep. Very deep. He was a serious power player. He was old. Thousands of years old. He had power, a lot of it. If a great human mage had a well of power like a bonfire, this guy was a burning house. A lot of what I see is subjective and subtle impressions, but I got the sense this guy knew a lot about using his magic in quick and violent ways. I was very intimidated. This guy would swat a Ha out of his way.

For his part, I could tell that the illusion covering Chebelforth's appearance had slipped. He had gone from being a character who'd be played by Paul Giamatti to one that would be played by a very strung out Dolph Lundgren.

"I know you have the statuette. I have tracked it to your home. It belongs to me and I want it back. I'm not sure what you think you have to gain by claiming such a conveniently timed theft. Perhaps it's some sort of foolish negotiating ploy. I don't care. I'm prepared to pay a fair price in many coins, but I want what is mine." He said with a depth of menace and conviction I could feel in my toes.

The fact that I had not yet vacated my bowls was in large part because I had done so directly before coming to this meeting. Still, it was a major moral victory on my part.

I had a pretty good idea that this guy was some sort of undead and survived by eating people. I had the sense he could eat me more easily than he had eaten the pot sticker at the Lodge.

I pulled together the shreds of my dignity and said, "I have no objection to providing you with what is yours. That said, I don't have possession of it right now. I will try and regain it and give it to you."

"Bring it to me or I will become impatient and come looking and you won't like that. Do you understand?" He asked.

"I understand." I answered.

Without saying another word Chebelforth got up and left the shop.

For several minutes it was a battle of will to remain seated in the chair and not curl up under the table and start weeping. Eventually, remaining seated won and I managed to get up and go back to my truck before weeping and then drive home.

When I got home and was inside the walls, but not in the garage with it's cell phone defeating cement and steel construction, I called Travis.

Travis was in the wilds of Oregon somewhere far from a cell tower tracking down a deer that would be on the Lodge's menu soon. That's what Travis did. He kept track of legal hunts all over the US and Canada, made sure he put in the appropriate apps and fees, then went. He was doing, in a modern way, what Hunters have been doing since humans first figured out the idea that killing and eating other animals could provide valuable sustenance and protein. The Lodge paid him a regular salary and expenses and he kept a steady stream of venison, elk and other wild game on the menu. Travis was happy as a clam.

Travis loved being a three day drive out into the back end of nowhere far from civilization. He would take that Jeep truck I gave him, pack it to the gills, but neatly and with order so every gram and cubic inch was pulling it weight, and drive to wherever he had gotten a tag and go bag his game. I knew, because I'd gone with Travis once. He'd been very kind and acted like a hunting guide. He tracked me down a nice six point buck and I'd used his .308 to shoot it. I did well. The shot had gone through the animal's heart and it had dropped dead instantly. We had gone to the animal. Cleaned it.

Then Travis said, "You have to drink this," handing me a cup of blood he had drawn from to animal.

I replied, "What?"

"You have to appease the spirit of the animal." Travis explained.

I didn't really want to and it didn't square well with my religious beliefs, but it was important to Travis so I drank. It tasted good.

Travis had roasted the deer's heart that night and had me eat it.

"It's a tradition on your first kill." Travis had said.

It was also good in an unusual way. A little gamey, tougher and stringier than normal meat, but it was very fresh and had a meaty flavor I had never had before.

Travis had also grilled up the venison liver with some garlic, onions and butter. The liver was very easy to eat with some surprisingly good rice pilaf that had come from an envelope and some hot water.

While some of the food on the hunt was really good, Travis eats sparingly, for him, while out which makes sense since every bit of food must be brought in the back of a very small truck, and sometimes packed in on backs, for days. I ate what Travis ate while we were out, but when we were in the Jeep truck driving home, we stopped at one of those "Eat the whole 72 oz steak and it's free" places. I ate two. Not a bad steak considering.

I don't really like being hungry. I know it's not terribly attractive in a man, but I don't enjoy "roughing it" or feel some "deep connection to nature." So I haven't been along again since. That said, I did enjoy having the experience.

"I'll have a deer in another day or so, but if you need me to, I'll drop everything and come home. It'll still take at least three days." Travis said by satellite phone.

"No get the deer and then come home." I replied.

"Okay, I'll be back as soon as I can be." He said, starting to get scratchy on the tenuous connection.

If I dragged Travis back home early, that would not only be screwing him up, but screwing up Miranda, Kelly and the Lodge. I felt painfully guilty with the idea that I would be imposing on everybody because I couldn't keep my pants up and take stupid basic precautions. Then there was also the simple practical fact of what could I expect Travis to do if I fought Chebelforth? A high end undead like that, a shot from a high powered rifle might not really bother him. After he was done wringing the life from me, he might bounce over to Travis and do the same to him for having the temerity to shoot him.

I could really use Travis to try and track down the statue. I didn't know where it was, but if it was in Omaha, he could probably find it.

It was then that I had a simple idea. The smart play was always to look at problems from both angles, magic and technological. I didn't have any way to track Novi by magic that I could think of, but that didn't mean technology had no answers.

I went to the Lodge and found the bartender.

"The blue girl from yesterday night, I need her credit receipt." I said.

"Yes sir." He answered. He knew I was some sort of management person.

We shuffled receipts for a while, then he pulled one out and in his best provincial Omaha voice said, "Yeah, I remember she had a funny name."

I looked at the receipt. Novi Senrai. Sounded Indian? Hmm.

I took the receipt to my table, letting them bring me a big pile of smoked bison brisket, and started working it with my notebook computer.

After a bit I found that the same credit card had been used around town for several days and was still renting a room at the New Victorian Inn. Bingo.

I let myself into the hotel's network and found her room, 194. It was one that had it's own exterior door.

Time for a visit.

I drove down and found where her door was. I went and let myself in. It was a simple plastic swipe lock, it took seconds to spoof. Then I was in. It was a typical hotel room. I spent a few minutes rifling it and found no statuette.

Then Novi came through the hotel side door.

I didn't wait. "You stole from my home. I want that statue back."

"Foolish man." She said to me, giggling, clearly not taking me very seriously.

This was really not a situation I was well prepared for. I didn't want to shoot her to death over a cheap piece of art. Nothing else I had on me was really based on subduing, not killing a target.

As the best thing I could think of, I pulled out my axe.

"Do you think I am a tree?" Novi mocked me, still laughing.

I sent a bolt of force at her, hoping it would knock her down, let me subdue her.

She thought that was hilarious.

With a sexy twitch of the hips to the left, the bolt of force missed her and then with a twitch to the right, the bolt orbited her and flew straight into my chest. It picked me up and flung me through the room's picture window backward. I flew through the air some distance and was lucky enough to land mostly on grass. Only my head and upper back landed on sidewalk. My spine protection kept me from a broken back, but I was fully winded. Novi flew out of the room, literally, her bottom half a whirlwind like some sort of jinni. She flew away giggling.

Just as she was passing me, Novi pointed a finger at me and said, "Whoosh!"

I flinched.

She thought that was funny too.

Then she was gone. I dragged myself off the ground and could hear police sirens in the distance. I hauled myself into my truck and got the hell out of there. Overall, not my proudest moment. Oh yeah, and my axe was broken. The handle had snapped just below the head. Perfect.

*** And now a word from our sponsor!***

Please imagine a chorus line of attractive, scantily clad, very fit high steppers in the gender of you choice!

This writer, like the story teller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay

Pal

.me

/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


	6. Chapter 6

**Warlock of Omaha Squared**

 **Chapter 6: Ring of Fire**

I got home. Jake was in Chicago becoming a better Jake. Travis was off doing what he was supposed to for everyone. Tamar was away on business. I had Chebelforth breathing down my neck for the statuette. Whatever the hell she was, Novi was laughing at me and apparently well out of my league. Facing what was likely the largest and most immediate crises of my life, my main magic casting implement was now in two pieces.

When I peeled out of my armor, I found my chest piece was cracked in half. Luckily, it still concealed the huge bruise underneath.

I had two choices. I could hide. I didn't think that would work out well. Or I could do what I could to see if I could come up with a better round two with Novi and maybe, eventually, Chebelforth.

I kept tailing the credit card, but no further charges came up. I did some searching and data mining to see if I could come up with any other leads for Novi, but came up goose eggs.

I left searches in place and, with nothing much better to do, I went to the forge. I moved the Ulfberht to the side and started a new project. I would make something from canister Damascus. I pulled out a likely canister, lined it generously with liquid paper and started by adding my old axe head. Then I added a few bolts. Then I went to my metal library. I knew a lot about metallurgy. More importantly, I also knew what Mr. Guna had taught me. So I pulled out samples and tried to use my magic to feel the virtues of the metal and which should be added to this project. I found small amounts of several metals which I would have never guessed, including copper and rose gold, and put them in the canister.

I put the canister in my medium forge and let it sit. Two hours later, when I was very sure everything inside was good and melted, I pulled it out. The billet solidified quickly and I started cutting off the canister. Thanks to luck and copious liquid paper, the canister popped right off. I drew my billet out by hand hammering it into a bar, fighting the metal's desire to set hard, and folded the bar into thirds twice. All the while, pouring my self and my magic into it. My forge hammer was getting a work out, but seemed to be enjoying it. With my billet ready, I set to and shaped a new hatchet. This one, like a combat hatchet, would have an integral handle, which is to say, the handle would be part of the head and the head part of the handle. Thirty-six hours later, I quenched in a very satisfying, no tings, kind of way. I did some decorative pins and sandwiched the steel handle between hickory on both sides almost up to the blade. The pins gave me the option of putting more magic into it. The hickory was still present as well, lending it's virtues. Sixty straight hours of work and I had a new axe. I suspected it would be a substantial upgrade on what I had before.

I was coming up, axe in hand, having just finished cleaning up and shutting down my forge, to find Tamar in the kitchen.

"Welcome home." I said.

Tamar turned and looked at me, she had apparently just got herself a glass of apple juice. She still had her airport bag next to her and professional clothing on. I could smell airport and airplane on her. Underneath was Tamar. I had missed that smell.

"Did you make yourself a new toy in my absence?" She asked looking at the axe.

"Yeah, the last one broke. This one's a rush job, but I think it turned out pretty good." I replied.

"Anything happen while I was gone?" She asked.

I had been wanting to suggest we go up to my bathroom and give each other a nice long shower, followed by bath, followed by all sorts of other good things. I couldn't do that now because I had to tell her the truth. Better sooner than later.

I sat down at the kitchen table, gesturing for her to sit as well, then said, "Yeah," and then explained in painful detail the last few days. I was about to explain Chebelforth when Tamar interrupted me. "You have to stop being so oblivious, it's dangerous. Halloween is a dangerous day. You're lucky this Novi didn't eat you."

"Okay." I said a little startled.

"Why don't you take me upstairs? We can give each other showers, then a bath, then get a little together time before the other girls get home." She ventured.

"That sounds like a great idea." I replied.

After dinner Tamar looked at the video footage and then checked her bungalow.

"Nothing else is missing and based on the smell, what I've seen and what you've described, Novi is a Yaksini, likely in the service of Kubera." Tamar stated matter of factly.

"Well okay." I said having no idea what those words meant.

After a few moments I was able to add, "Does that present any options for dealing with her?"

"She is much more powerful than you, so if you confront her again, you will be lucky to escape with your life." Tamar explained.

"Any suggestions how we can get that statuette back from her?" I asked.

"I have one idea, but I have to make some calls." She answered and headed to her bungalow.

Only after she walked out did it occur to me to ask about what she meant by "Fox People."

So Tamar.

I waited for Tamar in the kitchen. I ate a second dinner. I sent all the girls to do their homework. The girls did their homework and went to bed. After a while, I was nodding off sitting on the couch.

Around midnight Tamar came back in, "We need to catch a flight, I hope your passport is up to date?"

It was. I hadn't slept in sixty hours of intense physical and mental effort. I had just been trying and failing to sleep when Tamar came back. I packed quickly. International travel is tricky. I can't bring all my toys. There's also a consideration that my home could be infiltrated in some way in my absence which Ha had just demonstrated so clearly not so long ago. On the other hand, I was in a bad spot and listening to Tamar seemed like a good idea.

We flew commercial. I guess Tamar didn't realize I had access to private jets. At least it was first class. I placed my axe in my checked luggage and my coat has enchantments that keep my pistol and four spare mags discreet, but that's all I had. We switched planes in LA and got on an Air China flight to Beijing, which was not what I expected.

Once we were on the Air China 747, ensconced in our first class seats, Tamar began to talk. "I pulled some strings. We will appear before a judge who has the power of binding arbitration."

"Between us and Novi?" I asked.

"Yes." Tamar answered in her typically terse way.

"And if this judge so rules, she has to give the statuette back?" I continued.

"Yes."

"Why would the judge so rule?" I prodded.

Tamar sighed, seeing that I was just going to keep asking questions, explained, "In our world, Novi has done something bad."

"Yeah she stole from us." I interjected.

"No stealing is okay," Tamar continued, "she violated the hospitality of your home which you had offered."

"I see." I said not seeing at all.

"At the normal, human, mortal level, violating hospitality is bad manners. As you move up the food chain to powerful spiritual entities, it becomes more and more important. Novi is pretty high up the food chain. My guess was she was trying to get this item, along with some of Chebelforth's other things, and offer them to her master, Kubera. Then she was hoping to knock the current Riddhi out and take her place." Tamar explained opaquely.

I nodded and then shook my head showing I was totally not getting it.

"Riddhi is the title of the current chief wife of Novi's master. She is another Yaksini. If Novi can get enough favor with her master, he will remove the current chief wife and make Novi his chief wife. You can think of it as a big promotion with lots of extra pay and perks."

"Okay, that makes some sense." I said.

"But Novi, which is not her real name as I think you can imagine, broke hospitality to get the statuette. Now that's bad, but if she did that to a normal ignorant mortal, she'd probably have gotten away with it. However, she did it to you, and you're close enough to an ignorant mortal that she almost got away with it." Tamar continued to explain.

"Why didn't she get away with it?" I continued befuddled.

"She didn't get away with it because you have me and I know enough to demand a neutral judge for this transgression. By the way, the Judge is in China, which is why we're going there."

"and this judge is named…?"

"Gao Yao. He is held in high esteem by many of the Chinese people." Tamar replied.

"Okay." I answered starting to have some comprehension.

"Fortunately, the current wife is a friend of mine, owes me a favor and not so interested in being knocked out of her current cushy spot. So she helped me get an early hearing."

"How long does it normally take to get a hearing?" I asked.

"A few millennia."

"Well, than this is better." I said.

"Try to get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day." Tamar warned me.

Tamar then fell asleep. I tried to sleep, but I was scared and tense. I may have caught a few winks, but not much.

We landed in Beijing. I got our bags and we got a limousine. The limousine took us to a luxury hotel. I got my axe and put on all the gear I had been able to sneak along. Tamar put on a Chinese gown which was tight and showed a lot of leg. She seemed like she knew what she was doing.

We got another limousine which took us through the city covered with brown clouds to the now infamous Tiananmen Square. We walked across the square to a park which separated the square from the Forbidden City, the ancient seat of Chinese Emperors. We walked through a building called the "Jian Lou," crossed a street and went through another building called the "Zhengyang Men," then we walked the length of the rectangular shaped square, crossed another street, and entered the biggest building yet, called the "Tian'an Men." One would guess the square was named for it. Tamar seemed to know where she was going and we weren't here to be tourists.

I generally respected the Chinese people, but I hate the Communists, particularly Mao, who was a monster in the class of other great monsters like Hitler and Stalin. That we can't label Mao the most evil monster of all time, because there are even worse, is something of a stain on all humankind. Of course, this "Tian'an Men" had a big picture of Mao on the outside.

As we entered the large structure, now mostly a museum and tourist attraction, there was a large open area with many other tourists milling about. In the middle was a large glowing gate. The gate was open, but the tourists didn't seem to notice it. Tamar led me right through.

We were immediately someplace else. Clearly this had been some sort of magical ritual that allowed us to get to this new place. We seemed to be at the bottom of a long staircase made of wide stairs that seemed to travel through an idealized blue sky with fluffy white clouds. The stairs were constructed from some sort of beautiful white stone. About ten steps up was a platform. On the platform was a group of six guys lounging about.

We walked up side by side, I was on the right.

All six guys seemed Chinese, but had a definite red cast to their skin and all the skin that showed had some sort of marks on it. They all wore Chinese military BDU pants and shiny black combat boots with thick hard soles that looked sharp at the corners. Their shirts varied, but all showed a fair amount of well muscled skin. They also all had a "Bull" motif from one guy with just short bull horns all the way up to another that was a full on minotaur. The minotaur was also big, I'd guess he stood seven feet tall and he was ripped. They also all had glowing red eyes.

Short horns started talking in Chinese, I think, I had no idea what he was saying. I don't speak Chinese. I don't know any magic tricks to translate. I would bet good money Google translate was not going to work here.

Tamar started to reply. As soon as she started to speak, I immediately knew that what the guy said was, "This is not a place you belong. What are you doing here?"

Tamar was saying, "We're here to…"

As she was talking she stabbed short horns in the eye with just no warning.

I drew and fired my pistol at another one, but I was a tenth of a second slower and they were fast so I missed.

She was then dueling with her knife against the one I think was their leader. Even with everything else going on, I noticed she was using the stiletto I had made for her. I was gratified.

My shot missed but my new axe was in my other hand and I threw magic. My favorite magic shot is a bolt of pressurized air which I feel delivers maximum kinetic force to the target. Based on what I could do before, I threw something that should have been able to hit one guy and knock him on his ass. Maybe break a rib.

The bolt hit all three guys on the right side of the platform and slammed them hard into the steps behind. Even with their speed and assuming they weren't much harmed, they would be out of the fight for seconds.

That left minotaur who had, despite his size, snuck up behind me and slammed his two, apparently rock hard fists right down towards me and hit the step two feet to my right.

Minotaur was now at point blank and he was off balance, there was no way to miss. Two rounds in the head and two in the chest. Huge globs of him flew off and he just faded away. I turned to the three I had knocked to the steps. The one in the middle was just finishing fading. I shot the one on the right and that was all for him. The one on the left bounced up and was so coming for me right where I was standing and was so surprised when my axe head met his face.

All those defensive drills with axe and pistol had actually just paid off. I was so gratified.

That just left the one Tamar was facing. They were doing a dance, his size and reach balanced by her speed and blade. I didn't want to do too much, if I did it wrong and got Tamar it could be bad and they were moving fast. I carefully aimed and pulled the move just right. I nudged his foot with force from my axe.

He was off balance for a split second and that was all it took for Tamar's knife to go through his stomach and into his chest, three times. That was it for him.

"Okay, that went well." I said wondering what the heck had happened when I threw that first bolt.

"They were here to delay us. Tire us. We must minimize the distraction." Tamar explained brusquely.

We started jogging up the stairs. There were a lot of stairs. From that first platform, I couldn't see the top of the stairs. Every few hundred stairs there would be another platform. After a few hours of jogging up stairs I was really hoping Tamar would call a stop. She never did. None of my many electronic chronometers worked so I have no idea how long we jogged. I can say it was more than an hour and less than a year. We never stopped until we reached what looked like the gateway to a massive palace. I had, maybe, got a couple hours of uncomfortable sleep on the plane. I'd been up for about seventy hours prior doing intense physical and mental activity. Between the traveling, the moving across Beijing, the fight and the steps, I felt pretty shot. Tamar smoothed her dress. At that moment, I noticed she had never taken off her high heels.

We stood and waited for a long time. It was better than jogging, but my feet already hurt.

"So is this Chinese heaven?" I asked.

"More like their pearly gates." Tamar replied.

Somehow I also got the message to keep my big yap shut. So I did.

Eventually, the gate started to open. The gate opened ever so slowly. When the giant gates were finally fully open, a chunky cross between a goat and a Shetland pony came out and announced, "Welcome to the Palace of Divine Justice."

He said it in a tone that sounded reasonably normal, but somehow his speech was powerful, it seemed like a great wind was either pushing me down or back into the air and I was leaf. I held my place, that seemed like a major accomplishment. He gestured with his head for us to follow, Tamar followed and I followed her.

We walked through a garden that seemed to go on forever. It definitely felt like miles. How long had we been doing this already? When was the hearing? Would my feet need to be amputated? I managed to keep my big yap shut. Then we got to another gate. We eventually would pass through seven gates. The distance between them always seemed to get longer.

When we passed through the seventh gate, I could see a palace before us. I could simultaneously tell it would shame Everest in size and that it was small because it was so far away. I wanted to feel hope, but hope was long gone. Tamar still had her heels on.

Another eternity of marching and we were at the gate to the palace. The palace gate opened as slowly as all the others, but when it did, we were finally inside. The chamber was huge, like the size of a major indoor arena, the kind that could seat a hundred thousand people, and opulent in ways that were beyond mortal dreams of avarice.

In a moment of exhaustion and shock, before I could stop them, the words, "What an amazing palace." Spilled out of my mouth.

The goat laughed and said, "This is but the first and most humble antechamber."

There were seven antechambers and seven very slow opening huge doors. Each chamber got bigger, a lot.

When we were through them, I was too tired to talk and we were in the main palace. Yes seven more halls, the smallest of which dwarfed the biggest antechambers and the universe would die if one stinking door didn't open like molasses.

The last door opened into a vast chamber that looked too big to fit inside Everest. As we entered, I think there was some formal protocol, luckily Tamar handled it. I just had to focus on not falling down. We were finally brought before a very well dressed Chinese mandarin looking gentleman who was sitting on a great throne. He was probably about the size of Lincoln at the Lincoln Memorial.

"What has brought you to my Hall?" The mandarin said in a tone that was pleasant and didn't make me wish to fall down any more than I already did.

"The hospitality of my Master's home has been violated. I come seeking binding neutral arbitration as is our right under the Unseelie Accords and by conventions many times older than they." Tamar replied. By the way, the heels, still on.

"I expect the one you accuse shortly." The Mandarin replied.

With that statement, there was a blue vortex and Novi appeared. She was dressed in some very elaborate costume which seemed, to my unsure eye, to be of ancient Indian style.

"I am at your convenience great one." Novi said with a graceful bow.

The Mandarin said, "Welcome back to my home my friend of many years. A petition has been made for arbitration." Then he asked, "Do you accept my neutrality and the binding nature of my judgment?"

"Of course Great One, who could ask for a wiser decision?" Novi answered.

I didn't like the way this sounded.

The Mandarin turned back to Tamar and said in a cold tone, "Make your accusation."

"This creature came as a guest into my Master's home and accepted his hospitality. She then abused his hospitality and stole from him. We ask no penalty, only the return of that which has been stolen." Tamar said sounding very formal.

"These are serious charges and, if substantiated, you ask for only a very small penalty." The Mandarin observed. Then he turned to Novi, "Do you have a defense?"

Novi bowed again. I noticed Tamar had yet to bow. I suspect the bowing was somehow ingratiating. I wondered why Tamar didn't bow? Then Novi looked up and said, "Oh Great One, it is well known that if one is a guest and one admires a possession of one's host, the host must offer it as a gift. My host had invited me to his home and gave me hospitality of his own free will. Surely he does not claim to be so ignorant of the basic rules of hospitality that he did not anticipate I might admire a trinket in his home as he had admired me. Having accepted my gifts, he fell asleep. I sought to give him kindness and courtesy by not waking him before his rest was completed. I gave him the benefit of the doubt that he was a good host by accepting a very minor trinket that had pleased my eye. My actions all must be seen as reasonably expected courtesy exchanged."

Then there was a long exchange as various parts of the Unseelie Accords and other legal precedents and conventions were cited and weighed. I didn't follow most of that.

Finally, the Mandarin looked at me and said, "Had you been awake and she had admired something in your home, would you have offered it?"

I had been thinking on this very issue since I had heard what Novi said. My inclination was to yell, "Hell no!"

I took a deep breath. "It is not easy to give a simple or straight answer to such a question. In truth, there are many things in my home that if she had admired, I would have been happy to offer. I also have many possessions that are very dear to me. If they had been admired and she wanted them? Would I have been able to do the right thing? That's hard to say. I don't think anyone knows what they will truly do until they are actually put to a real test. As for the item in question, I have many other guests in my home who have their own possessions. I am responsible to them to protect the security of their persons and their possessions. This item belonged to a guest in my home so I would not have been able to offer it. Further, it's loss has caused me great embarrassment before this other guest. It is this misunderstanding that results in me only asking for the objects return."

The Mandarin leaned back when I finished. "It seems we are at an impasse. What say you Xiezhi?"

The pony goat who had been standing in attendance of this entire hearing looked up at the Mandarin and said, "I feel this can only be resolved by challenge."

The Mandarin nodded, "Too true. Let stages be brought forward," at which two small stages appeared, "and musicians brought forth," quickly musicians appeared as well, "and let the two champions compete. To the victor will go the object."

I looked at Tamar confused, "Am I supposed to go on that stage?"

"No, I am the champion. You just stay here, remain calm. Await the outcome." Tamar explained.

Tamar then went to one stage and Novi to the other. They both came out and stood in the middle of their own stage. What were they supposed to do?

Then the Mandarin announced, "Let the Challenge begin! Musicians play!"

With that, the musicians, who looked like traditional Chinese musicians, began to play slow jazz.

Then both Novi and Tamar began to dance. They moved slowly, but they certainly both knew how to move. I found my eyes going back and forth. I was so confused. "How is this a challenge? Shouldn't they fight?" I kept thinking. Then I realized, "This is a dance off!"

Tamar and Novi continued to dance and the tempo of the music slowly increased. I realized the music they were playing was burlesque and as soon as I realized it, I noticed both Novi and Tamar start to lose clothing!

They danced and my eyes snapped back and forth. Anyone who has seen the pilot for Star Trek knows how compelling a green skinned dancing girl can be. I can assure you blue is at least equally compelling. At the same time, Tamar could focus her sexuality to mesmerize one's attention in the most intensely compelling way.

The pace of the music continued to slowly speed up. The level of clothing slowly drew down. The intensity of their movements increased as the suggestion in the twisting and spinning became ever more explicit.

I was exhausted and in substantial physical pain. My life and the lives of everyone I held dear were on the line. I was deeply afraid. This was an intensely unsexy situation, but watching them, I became very aroused. The way they were dancing could have gotten a rise from stone. My eyes kept snapping back and forth.

Finally it seemed as if it could go on no longer. The intensity of the music was at it's peak, much further and it would become noise. Both women were nearly completely nude. Tamar was only wearing her stockings and the heels. Novi still had some things on which covered nothing and only served to emphasize how exposed she was. I was watching Novi, but a sudden movement from Tamar made me glance at her. As Tamar's arms waived, her knees were bending forward in alternating motion as she pranced in place at incredible speed as her body glistened. I would not have been a man if I had not thought, "If I was in her right now, those fast back and forth movements would probably destroy my member and kill me in great pain, but it would be worth it."

I was so busy watching Tamar, I didn't see Novi's climactic move.

They stopped dancing. Everyone clapped. Including me.

Then the Mandarin announced, "The Judge has made his decision and he has decided in favor of the Fox woman. Congratulations. I make this judgment. The Yaksini must meet the Fox people at their hotel room and return the object. Then she must serve the Fox man in his household for one thousand years. Done."

I was about to say something, ask what was going on, but I was standing in our hotel suite staring at a wall about one foot in front of me. I looked around and managed to fall on a bed.

There was Tamar, her dress restored, still wearing the heels. She managed to sit gracefully on a very comfy looking recliner. Then she kicked off her shoes.

"You never took of your shoes." I mentioned.

"As my mother always said, 'A Lady doesn't remove her shoes when she's out.'"

Couldn't argue with that.

Novi then appeared in one of those vortexes, holding the statuette.

"Thank-you." I said.

Then Tamar and I rested for a long time. Finally, I was ready for a soak in the giant whirlpool bath our room had come with.

"Tamar, would you like to join me for a bath?" I asked.

"Yes, that sounds pleasant." She replied.

"Novi, stay out here and guard the statuette." I ordered.

"Yes Master." She replied.

That sounded so nice coming from her.

Tamar and I went in the bathroom for a soak together in the whirlpool.

"How did you learn all that about legal processes of the supernatural community?" I asked totally amazed by what had just happened.

"If you live long enough, you learn things." Tamar answered cryptically.

"Did you know what kind of challenge it would be?" I asked.

"Yes that judge is quite the lech. I expected something like that."

"I noticed Novi bowed but you didn't?" I asked.

"We worship a jealous God. We can't bow to a phony make believe god like that." She explained.

"He seemed pretty real." I pointed out.

"He does exist, but he's just a powerful spiritual entity. Certainly, the prayers of many people also enhance his power. The true God's power does not depend on anything but his truth." She explained.

"So Novi is also a 'spiritual entity' like this one?" I asked.

"Yes, on a lower level, but still quite powerful." Tamar explained.

"I know it's not polite to ask, but I'm wondering how old you are?" I asked.

"A little over two hundred years. I was born in Vienna, Austria. My father was a lord of our People and I was his only child. He taught me of such things." She answered.

"Do you have any other surviving family?" I asked.

"No, in 1940, one of the ancient enemies of our People, the Mitzrim, came and murdered them. My father sacrificed his life to help me escape." She answered.

"I'm sorry for your loss." I apologized then continued, "You mentioned 'Fox People' are those our people?"

"Yes." She answered.

"I thought I was a human warlock?" I asked.

"You are." She answered then continued, "All those human mages that sit on the White Council, they are all something else as well, whether they know it or not. Humans have no magic. Something happened in the past which gave those humans magic. For most, it was interbreeding with something that is powerfully magical, and then perhaps breeding those half-breeds together that produces 'human' mages. Our tribe was imbued with this gift thousands of years ago. Most of the clans of the tribe did not receive the gift. Only a few in our clan got this gift. Of those that got our gift, most were female and they became expert spies and courtesans. Very few males got the gift, which meant if a female with the gift wanted a male with the gift, which we do very much, she had to accept she would most likely not be his only mate. The males with the gift were generally master crafters."

That was a lot to take in.

"What am I going to do with Novi?" I asked.

"I won her for you. Think of her as a dowry." She said the second with a bit of humorous snark. "Handling her is your problem."

I did not look forward to handling Novi. She was an ancient, powerful being who had probably been tricking mortals when humans were chimps.

"Can you give me a sense of the parameters of her service?" I asked.

"She must serve you in your home. You can use her as a maid. She can be asked to fight and defend the home. You can have her run mundane errands in the vicinity of the home as well." Tamar answered.

"No using her as, say, a body guard when I'm out and about?" I asked.

"No, she is not to be made into some sort of soldier. In theory, you could bargain with her to gain service not specifically included. Also, if you abuse her, she can appeal to the one who just sentenced her, her master and many other powerful supernatural beings. On the other hand, if she performs poorly, you could complain to the one we were just at." Tamar further explained.

"I assume she could twist my commands and be magnificently passive aggressive?" I asked.

"Of course." Tamar replied.

I nodded.

I had played Advanced Dungeons and Dragons in the first edition back in the days of my youth in that college town and when I went on to university elsewhere.

In AD&D, as its called, one of the great goals of the player's character is to obtain the ability to cast wish spells. There is little in the game environment that will allow a player to change the terms of the game more. In turn, the referee, or as they were unfortunately known, the Dungeon Master, had an investment of many hours and days in the current terms of the game. So the 'DM' had great incentive to thwart the players when he arbitrated the use of their wish spell. A classic was the player wishing, "I wish for a ruby as big as my head!"

The DM would respond by having the wish spell reduce the size of the player character's head to the size of a typical ruby.

That lead to players becoming ever so lawyerly and careful as to how they would cast their wishes and DMs being almost demonic in thwarting them.

I had the idea it would be good training for Novi.

I came out of the bathroom wearing one of the very nice complimentary towels.

Novi was still standing there in the room next to the statuette.

I addressed Novi. "Soon we will leave for home. You are to meet us at my home within 20 minutes of our arrival. You will do nothing to delay our travel. In my home, you will serve. You will obey my commands and obey Tamar's too. Only my commands will supersede Tamar's. You will make your best good faith effort to obey commands and be pleasing, not frustrating. You will never try to thwart our commands or by cleverly trying to parse obedience, cause us to be displeased.

"Should I die, your service will go to the one I dedicate, currently that is Tamar. Should I have a male heir, it will go to him and his male heir. If I have no male heir, to the eldest female heir with strong magical talent. However, if the current master, currently me, orders you to a specific heir, that overrides these instructions. If your current master dies without heir or designated heir, your service will belong to whichever being you most wish it would not and you will have to explain the terms of the service to them clearly.

"When before non-magical humans, even in my home, I wish you to appear human like," I then named a particular brunette Sports Illustrated model from the late eighties.

"You will learn the tasks of cooking, cleaning and gardening so you will be prepared to take over those tasks. You will assist in those tasks until the girls currently serving in my home move on, then you will assume them completely.

"You will defend my home from invaders.

"You will always be honest. Not simply to the letter, but to insure I have clear understanding of the issues at hand as much as possible within the framework of time available.

"You do not have permission to become pregnant by me, or anyone else.

"Lastly, we will be stuck together for a very long time. We have not met under the best circumstances and I expect you are not happy about the outcome of the recent trial. I'm sure if you motivate me, I can find ways to make you suffer. I will try to treat you with courtesy, respect and kindness to the best of my ability. If you do the same in return, it will probably be the easiest and most comfortable route.

"Now take the statuette and go straight to my home. Meet us there." I finished my commands.

When we were on the airplane I asked Tamar, "Did you know why we went to get the statuette?"

"No, I did it because I knew it was important for you." Tamar answered.

So Tamar had risked her life just because she knew something was important to me. I had never loved, trusted, cared about a person like this in my whole life. I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.

I took a moment for me to regain my composure so I could explain. "I need it because Chebelforth is really the mummy that goes with the items in the exhibit. If I don't give him back his statuette, he'll kill me."

"Chebelforth is that one?" Tamar asked.

"Yes." I answered.

"Then we're definitely not giving him back that statuette." She said, her mouth making an angry determined line.

As much as I knew I loved her a moment before, I was frustrated angry with her now.

"That was the point of all this. If I don't give it back to him, he'll kill me." I answered frustrated.

"He's the original Mitzri. The one in the Bible named, 'Pahro.' He invented the idea of murdering all of our people. I might give that monster a knife in the belly, but that's it. His kind murdered my whole family. Murdered my father before my eyes. I am sure whatever he seeks, his goals are only to do great evil. I will have nothing but odds with him." She replied.

Strangely, in that moment, as much as I wanted to live and as little as the ancient conflict between the Mitzri and my people meant to me, I cared about Tamar more. If she felt this strongly about it, even if it meant my death, I was okay with it.

I checked myself to see if I was under any seeming or glamour I could find. I wasn't. It was very possible Tamar was a better weaver of such glamours than I was a detector, but I'm pretty sure that it was really just love.

*** And now a word from our sponsor!***

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Please help. Thank-you.


	7. Chapter 7

Warlock of Omaha Squared

Chapter 7: Do Not Forsake Me

We got home and twenty minutes later there was Novi looking like a tall, brunette swimwear supermodel from my teen age fantasies wearing a conservative maid's outfit.

"Thank-you." I said as she gave me the statuette and I gave it to Tamar who took it back to her own cottage.

It wasn't long before I got a call from Chebelforth.

"I believe my property is now in your possession." He said.

"Not exactly. It belongs to a guest who lives here on my property. I promised only to ask for the item and see if it could be negotiated for. I do now have an answer. My guest is completely unwilling to part with the object." I explained.

"That statuette rightfully belongs to me. If you do not yield it, I will come there and take it." He answered, clearly quite angry.

"I don't recommend that. We've just upgraded the security system." I counter threatened.

Chebelforth hung up.

"Everyone on site, security alert." I announced through my cell phone, also sending the appropriate text messages.

I did a quick check. It was the middle of the day, so the girls were in class. That was good. Tamar came back quick, she was wearing her, still somehow sexy, type B fatigues I had made for her.

"Is there a problem Master?" Novi asked.

"Chebelforth may be here soon. We need to be prepared to fight." I replied.

"I don't think Chebelforth will be able to gain admittance. If he does, I will be here to repel him." Novi replied.

"Do you think you could take Chebelforth?" I asked.

"Certainly." She replied.

"Why don't you think he could get in?" I asked after thinking for another second.

"All powerful magical beings must respect a threshold. Your home has a particularly strong threshold in the exact variety most inimical to him. If a human mage tries to force his way across a threshold, he would lose most of his power at the door proportionally to the strength of the threshold. Chebelforth is a sort of undead, he might simply cease to be. I would expect he just won't be able to cross." Novi explained further.

"Could we force him across the threshold?" I asked.

"That would be an invitation and then he would be able to cross your threshold at will." Novi replied.

"Okay." I answered a little confused.

I got into full battle gear and was pulling on the last straps as Chebelforth arrived at my front gate.

Maybe it was foolish, but I went down to the gate to meet him.

Chebelforth got out of the expensive BMW he was driving and walked up to my front gate.

"Give me back that which is mine or I will come in and take it." Chebelforth threatened.

"No." I replied.

Chebelforth walked up to my gate and reached out his hand. As his hand got closer, it was like there was a wind made of light blowing him back. The closer he got, the harder the wind blew. The harder the wind blew, the more the illusion that Chebelforth was a short, slightly heavyset, middle aged man faded and the more it became clear he was some sort of corrupt thing. The smell was terrible.

After what seemed to be an eternity during which I thought he might break through at any moment, but what my security footage showed was no more than 1.38 seconds, he pulled back his hand.

"This is not yet done Fox man." Chebelforth snarled from a throat that wasn't all there.

"I don't like threats." I replied and shot him with my rifle.

The bullet went straight through him. The security cam footage would later show a puff of dust emerged from his back. Then the bullet dug a brick out of the street. It wasn't even clear that I'd made a hole in his clothes.

He smirked, turned around, got back in his car and left.

I retreated back into the house.

Novi, Tamar and I went back to the kitchen.

"It would seem bullets don't have much affect on him. Do we have any better ideas?" I asked.

"I can teach you to use your magic better to challenge him." Novi said.

"Can I hide in the house forever?" I asked.

"No, he will find other ways to make your life unbearable." Tamar answered.

"What can kill him?" I asked.

"It's not clear that he can be killed. In one sense, he is already dead." Novi answered.

"Fine, without dwelling too much on semantics, what can stop him, destroy him?" I asked.

"That's just it, its not clear that is possible without a major divine intervention?" Tamar explained.

"What?" I asked incredulous.

"You should read your bible better. Chebelforth was pushed by God to do what he did. As a recompense, he was spared at the Red Sea. He was also allowed to seal himself in an eternal sleep in his tomb so as to avoid final judgment." Tamar explained.

"So what happened then?" I asked.

"Chebelforth had a plan. He would be raised from the dead to eternal life here on Earth and would in turn raise an army of undying, undefeatable undead to wage endless war on his greatest enemies." Novi explained.

"Wage war on me." I said.

"Essentially yes." Tamar chimed in.

"I'm just trying to live quietly in my house. Why can't these things just leave me alone?" I asked with more than a note of frustration in my voice.

"Our people have been living with that essential quandary for three thousand years my love, and many more of us dying with it." Tamar explained with a bitter smile.

"So what happened to his big plans?" I asked.

"His successor was not so interested in his rising to rule forever, so he let Chebelforth sleep." Novi explained.

"That makes sense, then the original Chebelforth finds him and accidentally lets him loose." I contributed.

"Actually, the original Chebelforth did a very foolish thing in excavating him, but at least did an amazing job keeping him sealed up." Novi corrected.

"So what happened?" I asked.

"Chebelforth's idiot son cracked open the sarcophagus in an effort to see if there was any gold or money inside." Novi explained.

"So that brought him back. Why didn't he gain eternal life and a massive unstoppable army?" I asked.

"The second Chebelforth had already sold the key artifact he would need." Novi answered.

"The statuette." I answered.

"Exactly." Novi answered.

"So there's no giving that back to him now." I said with resignation.

"Exactly. Though we wouldn't have given it back even if it was an ashtray." Tamar explained.

"So we still don't have a plan for how to stop this guy?" I pointed out.

"He can't be destroyed. He's already dead." Novi replied.

Novi's saying that again was so totally not completely annoying. Okay, it was.

"So he's going to make my life miserable if I don't give him back the statuette. If I do give it back, he'll start some sort of mega war on the living, me first, and there's no way to stop him. We need to come up with something." I summarized.

Then Tamar, Novi and I came up with a brilliant plan.

After we came up with our brilliant plan, I took Tamar back to my bedroom, we had a bath. We relaxed each other and got a few hours sleep.

When it was dinner time Tamar and I ventured out and joined Yumi, Diane, Kaylee and Brenda.

I had Novi come in, "This is Novi. She will be joining the household. She'll be taking the room next to Diane's. Her tasks will be to help all of you with your tasks and, in doing so, learn them. Please welcome her."

There was general friendly welcoming.

Diane spoke up next, "There was a security alert today, what happened?"

"We have a new problem. Chebelforth has become aggressive and threatening. We're working to resolve the issue. For the time being, I believe we are all safe. But I ask all of you to be extra cautious until the situation is resolved." I explained.

We discussed it a bit more, but there wasn't much more to say.

After dinner, I went out to the forge. I had some things I wanted to work on. I got back to bed right around midnight, which, unfortunately was right when Tamar was heading out on her errands.

The next morning I got up bright and early and met Novi at the forge. Part of the plan was that Novi would work with me in the mornings. One of my weaknesses had always been my lack of magical tutelage. Now Novi would be attending to that deficit each morning.

"You have only the most basic understanding of controlling magical energy. We will begin with that."

We spent the morning working at pulling power from my well. Between the exercise I had gotten working on the bolts and the enhanced will finding my inner wolf had endowed, I was better than I once was. Novi spent the morning showing me how much farther I had to go. By lunchtime I was exhausted. I was glad it was only a half day class. Compared to Novi, Mr. Guna was a rest cure.

I had lunch and then met with Tamar.

Another part of the plan was that I had to learn from Tamar some of the basics of what it meant to be a Fox person.

"We will start with the basic movements." She began.

I would say it was most similar to Tai Chi. Slow movements which clearly built control.

No specific moment was that difficult. However, I had to be perfect and there were no breaks. By dinner time, I was exhausted again.

We had dinner as a family and I went back to the forge till midnight. Once again, just as I was getting back to bed, Tamar was heading out. A quick kiss is all we shared as I collapsed into sleep.

So it went. The third day I got a call from Miranda. "We just got inspected and they marked us down!"

"Was there a real problem or did they demand a bribe?" I asked.

"No and no. Everything was fine. Our food and facilities are top notch. It makes no sense. It's like the inspector had decided before he walked in he would find a problem." Miranda replied.

"Okay. Shut down. Make an announcement we will do a full review of processes. I'll put money in the account to cover expenses while we get this sorted out." I explained.

"But there's nothing wrong with our processes?" Miranda said.

"That may be, but were doing damage control now. The truth is irrelevant. The problem is coming from my world. You remember Chebelforth?" I asked.

"Yeah, what about him?" Miranda asked.

"He's actually a player in my world. He's decided he has to be a problem. He can't get at me directly right now, so he's using his money and power to put pressure on me." I explained.

"That's the first thing that makes some sense I've heard today. Which is crazy. How long is this likely to last?" She asked.

"Hard to say. We'll probably have to cave and give him what he wants soon." I answered.

"Is crazy people from your world likely to be an ongoing problem?" She asked somewhat frustrated.

"You chose to get in business with me for the many obvious benefits. I think it's worked out quite well so far. Now we're experiencing one of the downsides. I'm sorry it's affected you. We're doing what we can on my side to get the problem resolved. I suggest you get the restaurant settled. Donate any perishable food to charity and enjoy a few days off." I replied.

"That's very frustrating." Miranda said.

"I know. Once again, I apologize." I replied.

"Okay." Miranda ended the call.

The next day, someone spray painted my outside wall, "Lying Thief," and some other less polite things. I gave the security camera footage to the police which included the car's license plate number.

The day after that, some thugs chased Diane into a police substation.

After that I kept all the girls on premises. They would be nominally safe, but missing classes and other important matriculation activities.

On Friday afternoon, I was working with Tamar. We were talking about various things.

"Then, when I hit the electronics, the whole building went out. When I threw that shot at Novi in the hotel, it was not supposed to be that hard. Then when I threw force at the bullmen, I expected to, maybe, knock one down. I knocked down three and apparently killed one." I was explaining.

"You have to accept your own power and what you can do with it." Tamar answered.

"I know my own power, I've viewed it." I said.

"You've viewed it? How?" Tamar asked.

I showed Tamar how I could view someone's well of power. She laughed.

"You assumed what you did was objective. That it would give you a clear measure of what you're trying to study, like a blood pressure reader. You have to accept, magic is frequently very subjective." She explained.

"So then what you're saying is…" I began.

Tamar finished, "All you have been seeing is your own subjective opinion. If you think you're small, you'll be small. If you think someone is big, they'll be big."

"Is there a better way to tell?" I asked.

"Not really. Also, whatever you were before, the bowl of the kappa's power spilled it's power on you. There's a good chance much of that power has permanently come to rest in you." Tamar explained.

"But when I was kid, I could barely throw a few sparks?" I asked.

"You were a feckless child without self discipline. Now you are a man who can master himself. It makes a big difference. More importantly, you have to stop seeing yourself as a grasshopper and your enemies as giants." She answered.

On Saturday night, Tamar didn't come home.

Each night, Tamar had been going to the Durham and classing various angles to help us develop our plan.

On Sunday morning Chebelforth called, "I think we may have a better basis now for an exchange."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

In the background I could hear Tamar scream, "Don't give him anyth…" followed by a grunt.

"If you want your woman back, just give me my little statuette. Is one little inanimate object worth your woman's life?" He asked.

"Okay, you win." I said. "If she's not alive and well, you'll get dust." I conceded.

"I'm glad you saw things my way before something truly awful had to happen." He replied.

"I'll meet you at the Durham at your exhibit tonight at 3am. We give you the statuette. You go away and leave us alone." I offered.

"That's all I have ever asked." Chebelforth replied reasonably.

Tamar had been scouting the Durham each night for a week. She knew where the cameras were and how to get in and out. She had also been stashing certain supplies there. We had been building a plan to confront Chebelforth at his exhibit. Tamar being free and able to help was a key component for our plan to work.

I pulled myself together that evening and just before I left home, I ran into Novi.

"What are you going to do now? Your plan required Tamar?" Novi asked.

I assumed, despite explaining nothing, Novi knew everything going on.

"Now I have no choice. I'm going forward with the plan. Hopefully I'll be able to make it work with whatever help I can get from her." I replied.

"That's really a bad idea. You'll likely both end up dead. You should run." Novi replied.

"No choice, remember?" I replied and left.

I snuck into the Durham, Tamar had been keeping me up on what she found so it wasn't that hard. After doing a little electronic skullduggery to make sure the security system would see nothing more than it did on any given night, I didn't have that much trouble getting in. The Durham had a very modern, up to date, controlled through the internet, security system which had been graciously donated, and was maintained by, one of my clients. So I could rearrange all the security footage, and the system in general, from my smart phone.

I made my way to the room in the basement holding the Chebelforth Collection. The place was remarkably more creepy empty and dark.

When I arrived at the gallery I took a moment to survey the room. Was Chebelforth present? More importantly, Tamar? No, there was no one in he room.

I made my through the room to the sarcophagus. Since the second Chebelforth, the sarcophagus had been open and shockingly empty.

I placed a white, ivory statuette, immersed in a sealed plexiglass cylinder filled with water, in the sarcophagus.

Then Chebelforth arrived. "I see you've come alone. Where is my property?"

There was a fairly large doorway back to the rest of the museum, but it was the only way in or out and Chebelforth now stood astride it. He was now doing his most interesting man alive thing ever so impeccably, but somehow, I could still smell him. It was the same awful scent from his visit to my gate.

He had brought Tamar, well bound, a little roughed up looking, but not seriously injured over his shoulder and set her down, none to gently, on a convenient bench.

"In the sarcophagus." I replied.

He came across the gallery to where I was standing next to the sarcophagus and examined the cylinder.

"It looks good. I'm glad you could see reason." Chebelforth said.

"Remember, you agreed to leave me and mine alone." I said.

"Well, what is one's word when given to a fox person?" Chebelforth said as he pulled out a gun and fired.

He wasn't aiming at me. He shot Tamar.

I didn't have a lot of options. Novi had been drilling me all week in controlling power and I had seen how she could deflect my best shot. I pushed for all I was worth in that split second.

"Unngh," Tamar grunted and fell forward.

I then hit Chebelforth with everything I had. I sent a massive bolt of force down my axe and into him at point blank range.

Chebelforth did a little thing with the fingers of his left hand and totally shrugged it off.

"You'll need to do better than that little man." Chebelforth gloated. Then with a casual wave I flew across the room, my back slamming into a concrete wall. I hit hard enough to crack my helmet.

I struggled my helmet off in time to see that Chebelforth turned around to pick up the cylinder with the statuette in it.

That's what I was waiting for.

As Chebelforth leaned into the sarcophagus, I picked up the lid with my new and improved levitation and slammed it down on Chebelforth.

Chebelforth immediately started pushing the lid back up with everything he had, but I had him at the disadvantage. That lid must have weighed hundreds of pounds. Still, it was taking everything I had to keep pushing down on the lid. I knew that, eventually, Chebelforth would force his way out.

Our brilliant plan was for Tamar, at this point, to seal Chebelforth in. I had been hoping Tamar would be alive, able to get loose from her bonds and do her part. Failing that, I hoped I would be able to do her job. Both hopes seemed futile now. Tamar was still on the ground not moving, with an ever growing pool of blood around her. By myself, not only could I not seal this thing, any second I knew Chebelforth would be loose, at which point, I and most of the living things on the planet would probably be dead.

Suddenly, there was Novi. She brought over one of the tubes of Vulkem Tamar had previously hidden in the gallery and sealed down the lid.

Once Novi completed her first round, Chebelforth's resistance suddenly faded. She did several more circuits just to be sure. I kept holding the lid down, both with my physical and magical strength just in case he was playing possum.

Lovely stuff that Vulkem, use it to seal my driveway every year.

Then Novi and I attached two heavy steel bands that I had spent the week forging and magically reinforced, just in case.

I went to check on Tamar, she was unconscious, but she still seemed alive. I carried her very gently, like a baby, in my arms.

Novi lifted the sarcophagus onto a very old fashioned dolly and pulled it out to my truck. It just fit in the bed.

When we got home, I met Kelly who began treating Tamar over at our onsite clinic.

"She seems.." Kelly began as Tamar woke up, "…like she'll be okay." Kelly finished.

Apparently the bullet had hit Tamar in the shoulder and passed straight through. While doing so, the bullet had also snapped Tamar back against the wall. In addition to her bullet wound, Tamar would have a wicked bruise and a nasty knot on the back of her head. The new wounds would go well with the other bruises she had received from Chebelforth, but she was basically okay.

I had, thanks to Diane, a nice deep hole ready in the backyard. We used a modern innovation, a concrete sarcophagus. When most graveyards currently bury someone, they like to have the casket sit inside a concrete rectangular sarcophagus. Since most families like to have an illusion that their loved ones will spend eternity in their luxury casket and untouched by time or corruption, they find it comforting. It also gives the funeral home another billable item. It's also good for the graveyard, as it prevents excessive settling. The excessive settling can be avoided without the sarcophagus, but it requires more labor.

In normal burials, the flat lid of the concrete sarcophagus is put at the bottom, the casket is placed atop of the lid/slab and the rest of the cube is then placed above, creating a chamber around the casket for eternity. I had tracked down and purchased a particularly large concrete sarcophagus. I had also spec'ed in that my concrete sarcophagus would have steel rebar reinforcement.

I placed Chebelforth's sarcophagus on the pedestal. Then I put a thick shot of Vulkem around the edge to hold the bottom/pedestal of the concrete sarcophagus to the boxy top of the concrete sarcophagus, sealing it in a second time.

I had made a hole about a foot in diameter in the top of the concrete sarcophagus. I had done that because I also had an industrial concrete mixer and a whole lot of Quickcrete. We mixed the Quickcrete loose and filled the concrete sarcophagus. We then filled in the hole with more Quickcrete. Chebelforth's sarcophagus would float in concrete inside the concrete sarcophagus which itself would float in concrete. We would wait for a week to make sure everything was curing well. Then we filled in the hole with dirt and laid some nice grass sod. I liked Scott's Blue Grass. Diane was happy to make sure the sod was well watered.

It was a major sensation. A robbery in Omaha! That doesn't happen here. Further, of all the gold artifacts, jewelry and other easily moved valuables, only the relatively unwieldy and difficult to resell sarcophagus had been stolen.

"I saw the statuette in the sarcophagus, apparently it's still in there. That was not part of the plan." Tamar said annoyed.

"It was clever to put the statuette in the water cylinder. That would hide it from magical detection." Novi mentioned.

"Beloved, the statuette is still in your cottage." I said.

"Then what was in the sarcophagus?" Tamar asked.

"I took a scan of the statuette. Had my CNC machines carve me a copy from aluminum. Then I gave it a nice powder coat in ivory white. Very convincing likeness." I said.

"Then you put it in the water so Chebelforth wouldn't know it wasn't real!" Tamar exclaimed.

"Very clever Master." Novi said.

"So now he'll sleep again until someone pulls him out of there?" I asked.

"Once the sarcophagus was sealed, he was rendered immobile. However, without the proper rituals he will not sleep." Novi explained.

"Then.." Tamar began.

"He's still awake in there, just immobilized, perhaps forever?" I asked.

"Yes and I imagine it can't be that comfortable in there with the cylinder." Novi explained.

"I can live with that." Tamar said.

"Exactly," I said, "we can live with that. There was no other way."

Tamar then took me back to our bedroom.

"There is something I need to tell you." She began.

"There is something I need to ask you." I said.

"Let me go first," She replied, "I am with child."

I got down on my knee and pulled out the other item I'd been working on in the forge. It was a mix of 14 Karat rose gold and high grade tungsten steel. I offered, the ring to Tamar and said, "With this, I make you holy to me."

Tamar got a funny look on her face and accepted the ring. Then we kissed and then, well we enjoyed each other's company a lot, for a long time. We had to be careful of her shoulder.

In the days that followed, the Lodge was re-inspected and vindicated, being found to be in good condition. Then the Lodge re-opened to a whole new round of rave reviews. The only real change was that there was now a case of The Asters in the bar stock room.

A bit of sandblasting cleaned the wall and my security footage helped the police nab the vandals who were duly punished. This is Omaha after all.

The girls went back to school and there were no more incidents.

Travis, then Jake got back in town and they took me out for a real humdinger of a bachelor party. Really, we just went to Hooters and ate a lot of wings. We did still ogle! A lot!

A few days later, as I floated in the happy absence of immediate mortal danger and Tamar and my engagement, Brenda pulled me aside.

"There's something I have to tell you." Brenda began.

I could see Brenda was very concerned. "Just tell me Brenda?" I asked.

"I'm pregnant."

*** And now a word from our sponsor!***

Please imagine a chorus line of attractive, scantily clad, very fit high steppers in the gender of you choice!

This writer, like the story teller in the market of old, now has a hat out hoping for a small gratuity. There is no obligation and I'm grateful you took a moment to read. However, if my writing has found favor in your eyes, please take a moment to go to:

Pay  
Pal  
.me  
/hemaccabe

and throw in a little something, a dime, a quarter, a dollar, etc.

While I love to write, I do have a spouse and a child and a job and many other claims on my time that don't understand why I would spend so many hours banging on a keyboard. A small tangible return would help smooth the way to allow me to provide many more stories.

Please help. Thank-you.


End file.
